ILF 


THE  FARMER  AND  THE  LORD 


BY 

GEORGE  H.  HEPWORTH 

AUTHOR  OF  "  HIRAM  GOLF'S  RELIGION,"  "HERALD  SERMONS,"  ETC. 


NEW  YORK 

E.  P.  DUTTON  AND  COMPANY 

31  WEST  TWENTY-THIRD  STREET 
1896 


Copyright, 

E.  P.  BUTTON  &  COMPANY, 
1896. 


f 

/ 


CONTENTS, 
i. 

PAGE 

CHAT  BY  THE  WAYSIDE i 

II. 
LIFE  ON  THE  FARM 27 

III. 
THE  PARSON  COMES  TO  SUPPER 46 

IV. 
A  HOT  DISCUSSION 63 

V. 
THE  FARMER  is  ANGRY  87 

VI. 
LIJE  FINDS  HIS  SON  106 

VII. 

THE  NEXT  MORNING 126 

VIII. 

A  LESSON  IN  ASTRONOMY 144 

iii 


M12044 


IV  CONTENTS. 

IX.  PAGE 

SAM  AND  JESSIG  AGREE  164 

X. 

A  SLIGHT  ACCIDENT 186 

XL 
THE  NEED  OF  FAITH 209 

XII. 
AND  so,  THE  END  230 


THE  FARMER  AND  THE  LORD. 


i. 


CHAT  BY  THE    WAYSIDE. 

"  Now  look  here,  Rastus  Brown,  don't  talk 
any  meracles  to  me,  for  I  don't  believe  in  'em." 

"  There  isn't  any  harm  in  talkin',  Lije,  is 
there?" 

"  Not  if  you  talk  sense,  there  isn't.  But 
when  you  get  to  ramblin'  round  after  meracles 
you  won't  find  anythin'  more  than  my  son  Sam 
did  when  he  went  gunnin'  for  ducks  in  August." 

"He  didn't  get  none,  eh?" 

"  No,  and  'cos  there  wasn't  any.  'Tain't  the 
i 


AND  THE  LORD- 


season  when  they  fly  in  these  parts.  And  there 
ain't  any  more  meracles  at  any  time  of  the  year 
than  there  is  ducks  in  summer,  I  reckon." 

"  Mebbe,  Lijah  ;  but  your  Sam  knew  pretty 
well  that  there  was  such  things  as  ducks  some 
where,  or  he  wouldn't  have  wasted  time  tryin' 
to  find  'em.  He  made  a  mistake  in  lookin'  for 
'em  in  the  wrong  place,  that's  all." 

"  Yes,  and  I  jedge  that  your  meracles  is  about 
as  scarce  as  Sam's  ducks.  What  I  can  see  I 
believe,  but  what  I  can't  see  I  don't  know 
nothin'  about.  That's  a  pretty  short  creed,  but 
it  has  sarved  my  purpose  so  far.  I  don't  play 
hide-and-seek  with  my  eyes  shut." 

"  You  always  was  a  peculiar  fellow,  Lije,  and 
I  can't  quite  see  through  you." 

"Wall,  I  don't  set  up  to  be  winder-  glass, 
Rastus." 

"  Now  you  wouldn't  cheat  a  man  in  a  horse 
trade,  even  if  you  had  a  chance." 

"  Some  of  you  church  folks  would,"  sneered 
Lije. 


CHAT  BY   THE    WAYSIDE.  3 

"  And  I  can't  see  how  you  get  along  without 
believin'  as  other  folks  do." 

"  Wall,  I've  reared  a  tidy  family,  Rastus,  and 
the  old  farm  pays  about  as  well  as  most  of  'em." 

"  Yes,  but  you  ain't  got  no  futur',  Lije." 

"What  do  I  want  of  a  futur',  Rastus? — 
specially  if  there  isn't  any." 

"  Yes,  you've  got  money  in  the  bank,  I  al 
low,  and  your  children  are  strong  and  healthy. 
But  what  are  you  goin'  to  do,  Lije,  bimeby  ?  " 

"  Guess  I'll  have  to  chance  it,  same  as  you 
will." 

"  Supposin1  that  Sam  was  to  be  took,  what 
then?" 

"  Don't  worry  about  Sam,  Rastus,  and  don't 
draw  picters  of  that  kind.  My  father  give  me 
a  good  body,  and  I  give  the  same  to  Sam. 
He's  a  robustious  boy,  and  his  muscle  is  just 
like  steel." 

"  All  right,  but  supposin' — " 

"  Oh,  I  ain't  in  the  business  of  supposin'. 
I've  got  somethin'  better  to  do." 


4  THE  FARMER  AND   THE  LORD. 

"  I  was  only  thinkin',  Lije,  that  it  is  a  good 
thing  to  have  somethin'  to  tie  to  when  there's 
trouble,  'cos  if  you  don't  you're  just  like  thistle 
down  in  a  gale  of  wind.  ' 

"  I'd  rather  believe  nothin'  than  believe  what 
isn't  so,  Rastus,  as  you  do." 

"  If  it  isn't  so,  why,  then,  you  ought  not  to 
believe  it;  but  p'r'aps  'tis  so,  and  you  may  be 
mistook.  You  remember  Silas  Timber,  don't 
you?" 

"Wall,  what  of  him?" 

"  He  went  out  to  Montany,  or  somewhere, 
prospectin'.  He  was  goin'  to  get  his  pockets 
full  of  gold.  Up  in  the  mountains,  one  day,  he 
and  his  partner  was  peerin'  about,  when  the 
other  fellow  said  :  '  Silas,  there's  gold  under  our 
feet  as  true  as  you  live;  I  can  see  the  signs.' 
But  Silas  he  knew  more'n  any  one  else,  and  he 
vowed  there  wasn't  any  gold  there.  He  didn't 
see  any  signs,  'cos  he  didn't  know  a  sign  from  a 
jack-knife." 

"  I've  heerd  about  that,"  and  Lije  chuckled. 


CHAT  BY  THE    WAYSIDE.  5 

"  So  Silas  bid  his  partner  good-mornin',  and 
trudged  along.  And  what  was  the  conse 
quence?  " 

"Tell  it  yourself,  Rastus;  'tisn't  my  story." 

"  If  I  recollect,  the  partner  staked  his  claim, 
and  got  out  of  it  all  the  gold  he  wanted.  As 
for  Silas —  " 

"  Well,"  broke  in  Lije,  "  Silas  is  hammerin' 
hot  iron  in  the  blacksmith's  shop  at  the  Corners 
at  a  dollar  a  day,  and  serves  him  right." 

"  That's  just  it,  Lije.  And  you  are  ham 
merin'  cold  iron,  and  not  makin'  much  out  of  it, 
either." 

"  You're  gettin'  rather  personal,  Rastus," 
and  Lije  grew  red  in  the  face.  "  I  haven't 
done  anythin'  of  the  kind." 

"  The  gold  was  there,  right  under  Silas's 
feet,"  continued  Rastus,  "but  he  didn't  see  it; 
and  here's  a  good  many  things,  close  by  you, 
that  you  ought  to  believe  in,  but  you  don't 
re-cog-nize  'em." 

And  now  let  me  interrupt  this  conversation  a 


6  THE  FARMER  AND    THE  LORD. 

few  minutes  while  I  describe  the  persons  en 
gaged  in  it. 

That  the  two  were  of  the  country  folk  is 
plain.  That  they  belonged  to  the  New  Eng 
land  type  is  shown  by  their  dialect,  for  in  no 
other  section  of  the  country  is  this  peculiar 
mode  of  speech  found.  They  both  knew  how 
to  think,  though  they  couldn't  express  their 
thoughts  in  grammatical  phrases. 

Erastus  Brown  was  what  in  these  days  would 
be  called  a  broad  Christian.  Some  of  the 
church  officials  thought  he  was  just  a  bit  astray, 
theologically,  but  I  knew  him  for  years,  and  it 
always  seemed  to  me  that  if  the  dear  Lord  were 
to  visit  Woodbine,  He  would  sup  with  Rastus 
as  He  did  with  the  little  family  at  Bethany. 
He  was  as  straight  in  his  life  as  he  was  in  his 
physique — a  man  six  feet  three  in  his  stockings, 
clear-headed,  clear-eyed,  and  pure-hearted. 
Rather  brusk  in  expressing  an  opinion,  he  was 
apt  to  say  things  which  were  remembered ;  and 
even  now,  after  a  lapse  of  many  years,  and 


CHAT  BY   THE    WAYSIDE.  7 

though  he  has  been  in  heaven  for  a  full  decade, 
his  quaint  sayings  are  frequently  repeated. 

"  You  can  cheat  yourself,  and  you  can  cheat 
other  people,"  he  said  on  one  occasion,  "  but 
you  can't  get  up  early  enough  to  cheat  the 
Lord. "  And  if  you  were  to  talk  with  a  Woodbine 
farmer  for  half  an  hour,  you  would  probably 
hear  that  sentence,  and  Rastus  would  be  cred 
ited  as  its  author. 

"  There  are  a  good  many  snags  in  a  man's 
life,"  he  said  to  me  one  day,  just  before  I  went 
to  college,  "  and  you've  got  to  get  round  'em 
the  best  way  you  can.  I  notice  that  the  boats 
on  the  Mississippi  don't  butt  ag'in'  'em  if  they 
can  help  it.  When  you  see  one  ahead  of  you, 
do  as  the  priest  and  the  Levite  did :  cross  over, 
and  go  along  on  the  other  side." 

Again,  "  You  can  get  sweetenin'  out  of  a 
pizen  blossom,  if  you  know  as  much  as  the  bees 
do;  and  a  man  that  isn't  better'n  a  bumblebee 
isn't  fit  for  the  kingdom  of  heaven." 

There  is  one  other  of  his  sayings  which  you 


8  THE  FARMER  AND    THE  LORD. 

will  hear,  and  it  is  worth  quoting  here.  The 
man  who  kept  the  corner  grocery  was  supposed 
to  be  very  pious,  but  it  was  dangerous  to  make 
a  swap  with  him  of  any  article  you  had  for  sale. 
Rastus  remarked  in  his  hearing,  and  there  was 
a  queer  twinkle  in  his  eye :  "  It  isn't  talkin'  that 
gets  you  into  heaven;  it's  doin'."  Then  he 
added :  "  The  Lord  doesn't  weigh  a  man's 
possessions.  You  can't  put  nothin'  on  the  hea 
venly  scales  that  isn't  clean  and  honest  and 
aboveboard." 

There  is  a  slate-stone  slab  at  the  head  of  a 
grave  in  the  churchyard  behind  John  Jessig's 
church,  and  under  the  name  of  Erastus  Brown 
John  had  these  words  inscribed  : 

"He  lived  as  he  believed.'1'1 

Elijah  Tomkins  was  in  some  respects  a  differ 
ent  sort  of  man.  His  head  was  as  square  as 
a  cube,  indicating  great  obstinacy  of  purpose. 
He  had  the  high  cheek-bones  of  his  race,  but  a 
couple  of  blue  eyes,  eyes  that  were  deeply, 
darkly,  beautifully  blue,  like  a  New  England 


CHAT  BY   THE    WAYSIDE.  g 

sky  in  December,  and  they  looked  you  straight 
in  the  face.  One  glance  at  his  firm  lower  jaw, 
hardly  concealed  by  the  sparse  whiskers,  which 
looked  like  a  hedge  of  scrub-oak,  would  con 
vince  you  that  he  had  opinions  of  his  own,  and 
was  not  afraid  of  them. 

He  inherited  his  infidelity  not  from  his  father 
alone,  but  from  his  grandfather,  and  the  inher 
itance  was  a  pretty  large  one.  Mr.  Huxley  had 
to  invent  a  word  to  cover  his  own  case;  for 
when  his  friends  asked  him  if  he  believed  in 
God  or  in  immortality,  he  flew  to  the  Greek 
dictionary  and  dragged  from  it  a  couple  of  roots 
which  he  put  together,  making  the  word  "  ag 
nostic."  Thereafter  he  spoke  of  himself  as  an 
agnostic,  or  a  man  who  is  willing  to  admit  that 
you  may  be  right  or  you  may  be  wrong  in  your 
belief,  but,  for  himself,  he  doesn't  know  any 
thing  about  it.  In  the  days  of  Lije's  father  and 
grandfather  this  convenient  word  had  not  come 
into  use.  They  didn't  say,  "  I  don't  know 
whether  it  is  so  or  not,  and  I  can't  find  out,  so 


10  THE   FARMER  AND    THE   LORD. 

I  never  give  myself  any  trouble  about  the  mat 
ter  " — not  they.  They  were  altogether  too 
blunt,  too  undiplomatic  for  that.  They  insisted 
that  they  did  know  something  about  God  and 
immortality,  all  that  it  was  possible  to  know,  in 
fact,  and  that  the  statements  of  Christians  were 
wholly  false.  There  was  no  hiding  behind  the 
fence  of  agnosticism,  or  I-don't-know-ism,  in 
those  times,  but  a  man  flatly  denied  everything, 
and  defended  his  denial  against  all  comers. 

There  is  a  legend  that  Lije's  ancestor  had  a 
theological  tussle  with  the  preacher  one  day. 
After  listening  to  an  argument  on  predestina 
tion,  he  is  recorded  as  saying,  "  Parson,  ar'n't 
you  makin'  God  rather  small  and  narrer? 
Seems  to  me,  if  I  believed  in  Him,  I  wouldn't 
kind  of  hedge  Him  in,  as  you're  doin',  but.  I'd 
pfive  Him  all  the  room  there  is  for  the  exercise 

o 

of  charity  to  poor  human  bein's."  The  criticism 
flew  round  the  country  neighborhood,  and  his 
fellow-farmers  avoided  him  more  sedulously 
than  ever.  He  took  no  note  of  it,  but  simply 


CHAT  BY   THE    WAYSIDE.  II 

remarked,  "  My  opinion  for  me,  and  your  opin 
ion  for  you.  That's  fair,  isn't  it?"  and  went 
about  his  work  as  usual. 

That  is  the  stock  from  which  Lije  came.  He 
was  apparently  so  made  that  he  couldn't  believe 
as  others  did.  The  whole  trend  of  his  mind 
was  the  other  way.  But  his  life  was  better 
than  his  creed.  He  exercised  the  Christian 
virtues,  but  didn't  know  they  were  Christian. 
Indeed,  in  his  rough  way  he  was  punctiliously 
honorable,  for  if  he  told  you  he  would  pay  a 
certain  debt  on  a  given  day  three  months  ahead, 
he  would  do  it  as  surely  as  the  sun  rose. 

Yes,  he  was  sharp  at  a  bargain,  but  I  never 
knew  a  straightforward  man  who  was  not.  He 
traded  for  the  purpose  of  getting  a  profit  from 
the  trade,  but  he  was  what  the  villagers  called 
a  square  man.  And,  moreover,  he  was  a  broad- 
minded  and  just  man,  with  a  dash  of  charity  in 
his  judgment.  One  day  a  very  hot  rivalry 
burst  forth  between  two  churches,  and  some 
rough  things  were  said  on  both  sides.  To  one 


12  THE   FARMER  AND    THE   LORD. 

of  the  deacons  he  quietly  remarked :  "  Well, 
there  isn't  much  of  an  inducement  to  jine  either 
of  them  churches,  if  I  happened  to  be  thinkin' 
of  doin'  so,  is  there?  Tears  to  me  that  if 
you're  follerin'  your  Master,  you're  so  far  be 
hind  Him  that  you're  clean  out  of  sight;"  and 
he  said  it  so  good-naturedly  that  no  offense 
could  be  taken. 

I  speak  of  him  thus  in  detail  because  I  pro 
pose  to  follow  his  fortunes,  and  to  tell  you  of 
the  remarkable  effect  which  certain  incidents 
produced  in  his  character. 

Rastus  and  Lije  were  intimate  friends.  In 
their  boyhood  they  went  together  to  the  same 
school-house  at  the  corner,  trudging  through  a 
mile  of  snow  during  the  winter  months.  The 
same  birch  rod  had  fallen  on  both  their  backs, 
and  the  same  ferule  had  made  the  palms  of  their 
hands  as  red  as  a  bit  of  sunset.  They  were 
manly  youngsters,  who  shared  their  lunch  with 
each  other  at  recess,  and  when  school  was  out 
fought  side  by  side  in  boyish  battles. 


CHA  T  BY   THE    WA  YSIDE.  \  3 

"  He  can't  see  the  stars,"  said  Rastus,  when 
speaking  of  his  friend  to  me,  "  and  Fm  sorry 
for  it;  but  he's  a  good  neighbor,  and  I  guess 
the  Lord  won't  be  too  hard  on  him.  If  a  man 
lights  his  taller  candle  in  the  dark,  he  can't  see 
as  much  as  though  the  sun  was  shinin',  but  he 
can  see  somethin'.  He'll  die  sometime,  and 
the  day  after  the  funeral  he'll  know  a  good  deal 
more'n  he  does  now." 

When  my  story  opens  Rastus  was  plowing, 
and  Lije  was  leaning  against  the  stone  wall, 
doggedly  whittling  a  stick.  Now  the  peculiar 
ity  of  a  New  England  whittler  is  that  when  he 
is  in  a  conciliatory  mood  he  whittles  toward 
himself,  with  his  thumb  on  the  whittled  end  of 
the  stick;  but  when  he  is  defiant  he  whittles 
away  from  himself,  making  the  splinters  fly. 
You  may  judge  from  the  conversation  which  I 
have  already  reported  that  Lije's  jack-knife  was 
doing  rather  vigorous  work.  He  was  in  no 
amiable  state  of  mind.  One  of  the  ministers  on 
the  Sunday  previous  had  made  some  remarks 


14  THE   FARMER  AND    THE  LORD. 

which  seemed  to  be  unnecessarily  personal,  and 
Lije  had  become  militant. 

"  Sometimes  I  think,"  he  said,  as  he  drew  his 
hard  thumb  across  the  blade  of  his  knife — 
"  sometimes  I  think  I  don't  believe  in  nothin'. 
'Tany  rate,  you  can't  be  sure  of  nothin'." 

"Yes,  you  do,  Lije,"  and  Rastus  leaned 
against  his  plow-handles,  and  looked  his  friend 
in  the  face. 

"  You  know  more  'bout  it  than  I  do,  do 
you?  " 

"Yes,  I  reckon  I  do." 

"And  I  reckon  you  don't,  Rastus." 

"  Say,  Lije,  don't  you  believe  in  the  good  old 
mother  that  borned  you,  and  whose  last  days 
you  blessed  with  every  comfort  you  could  give 
her?" 

"  That's  like  askin'  me  if  I'm  human,  isn't 
it?" 

"  And  don't  you  believe  in  Samanthy,  that 
you  married  nigh  thirty  years  ago,  and  who's 
been  a  good  wife  to  you  ever  since?  " 


CHAT  BY   THE    WAYSIDE.  15 

"  Rastus,  are  you  wild  ?  What's  that  got  to 
do  with  it?" 

"  And  don't  you  believe  that  the  world  is 
progressing  and  every  man  ought  to  shove  it 
along,  and  that  it'll  come  out  all  right  in  the 
end,  and  that  you  and  I  ought  to  be  marciful 
to  man  and  beast,  and  that  if  we  can  lend 
a  helpin'  hand  anywhere,  we're  bound  to  do 
it?" 

"  I  can't  see  what  you're  drivin'  at,  Rastus." 
But  he  did  see,  and  he  stooped  to  pick  up  an 
other  stick  to  whittle. 

"  And  don't  you  believe  that  it  wouldn't  be 
no  harm  to  follow  the  Lord,  and  do  pretty 
much  as  He  did,  forgivin'  and  forbearin',  and 
all  that  sort  of  thing?" 

"  What's  the  meanin*  of  all  this,  Rastus  ? 
Do  you  take  me  for  a  heathen?  " 

"  No,  'cos  I  know  you're  not  one,  Lije.  But 
I  want  to  show  you  that  when  you  say  you 
don't  believe  nothin'  you  are  overstatin'  the 
case.  You  believe  pretty  nigh  onto  everythin' 


1 6  THE   FARMER   AXD    THE   LORD. 

that  other  people  believe,  only  you  draw  the 
line  just  this  side  of  the  church." 

"  And  you  think,"  sneered  Lije,  "  that  'cos  I 
don't  swaller  your  creed  I'm  goin'  to  perdition, 
eh  ?  That's  the  kind  of  charity  you  hev,  and 
the  kind  of  marcy  you  folks  show." 

"  Hold  up  there,  Lije ;  I  don't  go  as  far  as 
that,  and  you  know  it.  Do  you  remember  that 
one  day  a  scribe  come  to  Jesus  to  have  a  talk 
about  what  is  essential  in  religion,  and  the  Lord 
said  that  love  to  God  and  love  to  your  neighbor 
was  aboat  all  any  one  could  properly  attend 
to?" 

"  Wal\  yes;  I've  heerd  somethin'  of  the 
kind." 

"  And  when  the  man  remarked  that  in  his 
opinion  them  two  commandments  was  the  great 
est  things  in  the  world,  the  Lord  turned  on  him 
and  said,  '  You  are  not  far  from  the  kingdom  of 
God  ? '  Now,  Lije,  you  are  like  that  scribe : 
you're  not  far  off." 

"  Mebbe,"  answered  Lije,   "  and  then  ag'in 


CHAT  BY   THE    WAYSIDE.  17 

mebbe  not.  I  ain't  sartin  about  nothin'  except 
that  I  don't  know  nothin'.  There's  lots  of 
things  I  don't  believe,  and  I'm  not  goin'  to  say 
I  do.  You  say  you  believe  in  God ;  well,  I 
don't,  and  that's  the  end  so  far  as  I  am  con 
cerned.  And  you  believe  in  a  futur' ;  but  you've 
never  been  there,  and  no  one's  ever  come  from 
there.  And  you  do  a  good  deal  of  prayin',  and 
what  is  it  anyhow?  The  parson  turns  his  face 
up  to  the  ceilin'  and  begins  to  tell  some  one  he 
can't  see  what  he  ought  to  do,  and  how  a  good 
many  things  is  wrong  and  he'd  like  to  have 
him  set  'em  right.  I  don't  see  no  sense  in 
it" 

Rastus  was  greatly  troubled  in  his  mind. 
He  had  heard  Lije  say  the  same  things  many 
times,  but  now  there  was  a  kind  of  fierceness  in 
his  voice  which  seemed  to  be  defiant,  and  he 
hardly  knew  what  to  make  of  it. 

"  I  reckon,"  Lije  continued — "  I  reckon,  and 
I'll  bet  a  cooky  on  it,  that  if  you  was  hauled 
up  before  a  church  council,  you'd  come  off 


1 8  THE   FARMER   AND    THE   LORD. 

pretty  slim,  for  you're  not  afeard  of  your  opin 
ions  any  more'n  I  am." 

"  We  won't  talk  about  that,  Lije.  It's  neither 
here  nor  there,  whether  I  come  up  to  the  regu 
lation  standard  in  all  partic'lars  or  not ;  but  I 
believe  more'n  you  do,  and  I  wouldn't  give  it  up 
for  the  best  farm  in  the  county." 

"  Wall,  Rastus,  tell  me  honest  what  you  do 
believe." 

"  Just  wait  till  I  plow  another  furrer  round 
this  field,  and  think  about  it.  Keep  on  whittlin' 
till  I  come  back,  will  you  ? — Get  up  there, 
Molly!  High,  Patsy,  boy!" 

Rastus  struck  the  helve  of  his  plow  into  the 
sod,  and  the  rich  loam  groaned  as  it  was  turned 
over.  He  was  gone  not  more  than  five  minutes. 
"Whoa!"  and  he  left  the  plow  and  faced  Lije. 

"  Are  you  ready  to  hear  me?  "  he  asked. 

"Fire  ahead;  I'm  listenin',"  was  the  answer. 

"  I  ain't  much  at  an  argyment,  Lije,  and  you 
can  throw  me  every  time." 

Lije  was  somewhat  mollified  by  the  compli- 


CHAT  BY   THE    WAYSIDE.  19 

ment,  and  with  a  sly  twinkle  he  answered,  "  Just 
as  I  did  when  we  was  boys  and  had  a  wrastlin'- 
match." 

"  Yes,   you    throwed    me,   but    throwin'   me 
didn't  prove  that  you  were  in  the  right.     Guess 
you  see  that,  don't  you  ?  " 
"P'r'aps." 

"  But  if  you're  in  'arnest,  and  want  a  state 
ment  of  my  belief,  you  can  have  it." 
"  All  right,  Rastus." 

"  In  the  first  place,  I  believe  in  a  superin- 
tendin'  Providence  that's  over  all  creation.  I 
don't  expect  that  this  'ere  dandelion  could  grow 
unless  it  was  told  to,  and  it's  Him  that  told  it 
to  who  looks  after  affairs  generally,  includin' 
you  and  me.  I  don't  pretend  that  I  know  much 
about  Him.  I  only  know  that  He  kinder  per 
vades  me.  That's  where  I  begin,  and  it's  a 
pretty  big  beginnin'." 

"  Yes,  you  begin  with  what  you  don't  know 
for  sure,  just  as  I  expected." 

"  That  isn't  so  certain,  Lije.     T'other  night  I 


20  THE   FARMER  AND    THE   LORD. 

was  in  the  parlor,  and  it  was  dark  as  your 
pocket.  I  sat  down  on  the  sofy  for  a  minute, 
and  then  I  felt  confident  that  there  was  some 
body  in  the  room." 

"  Heard  his  feet  shuffle,  of  course." 

"  No,  I  didn't.  I  didn't  hear  a  sound.  But 
somehow  or  other  I  sensed  another  person,  and 
if  you  was  to  ask  me  why,  I  couldn't  tell  you. 
Bimeby  I  said,  quiet  like,  'Is  anybody  here?' 
and  Sam  burst  out  laughin'.  '  I  see  you  come 
in,  father/  he  said,  '  but  I  thought  I'd  keep  still 
and  pry  on  you.' ' 

"  That  argyment  isn't  worth  shucks.  If  that's 
all  you've  got  to  say,  your  belief  has  a  pretty 
slim  foundation,  and  it  had  better  get  somethin' 
stronger  to  stand  on.  Howsomever,  proceed  to 
the  next  p'int." 

"  Wall,  my  idea  is  that  heaven  and  earth 
can't  be  very  far  apart,  and  them  that's  gone 
know  what  we're  doin'  and  help  us  do  it." 

"  Where  is  this  heaven  you're  talkin'  about, 
Rastus?  Seems  to  me  you're  wadin'  through  a 


CHAT  BY   THE    WAYSIDE.  21 

bog  and  will  come  out  nowhere.  That's  about 
where  I  am,  and  you  only  think  you're  some 
where  else,  but  you  ain't." 

"  I  can't  put  my  finger  on  the  map  and  say  its' 
here  or  there,  but  it's  bound  to  be  somewhere." 

"Isn't  that  sorter  dim?"  and  Lije  looked  at 
Rastus  through  the  corners  of  his  eyes. 

"  Don't  seem  to  me  so,  Lije.  I  lost  that  lit 
tle  fellow  of  mine,  you  remember,  two  year  ago, 
and  it  'most  broke  our  hearts  to  home.  I  didn't 
see  how  I  could  stand  it,  and  as  for  Tildy,  you 
know  how  she  went  round  the  house  with  tears 
runnin'  down  her  cheeks  like  a  spring  freshet ; 
for  you  was  there  every  day,  and  a  mighty 
good  friend  you  was,  though  you  couldn't  say 
much  that  was  comfortin'.  Still  Tildy  remarked 
to  me  one  day,  '  Lije's  hand-shake,  though  he 
don't  open  his  lips,  is  worth  more'n  some  peo 
ple's  talk.'  " 

"  Don't  speak  of  that,  Rastus.  We  was  boys 
together,  you  know,  and  I  couldn't  help  bein' 
neighborly,  that's  all." 


22  THE   FARMER  AND    THE   LORD. 

"  After  a  while,"  continued  Rastus,  "  I 
thought  I'd  go  to  the  village  and  see  if  Parson 
Jessig  could  do  anythin'  for  Tildy,  and  he  come 
right  up  here  and  stayed  to  supper." 

"  Why  didn't  you  go  to  your  own  minister, 
at  the  Corners?  " 

"  Don't  know  why,  Lije.  Guess  'twas  a 
special  providence.  At  any  rate,  I  struck  the 
right  man.  He  come  to  the  house  several  times, 
and  he  told  us  a  lot  of  things  we'd  never 
thought  of." 

"  Sich  as  what?  "  asked  Lije. 

"  Well,  for  one  thing,  he  said  that  whenever 
Christ  got  into  trouble  the  angels  came  and 
helped  Him  out  of  it.  That  was  a  part  of 
Scripter  I  had  skipped  over,  but  the  parson 
seemed  to  think  it  was  rather  important." 

"  H'm!"  sneered  Lije. 

"  Then  ag'in,  he  referred  to  the  cloud  of  wit 
nesses  that  Paul  talks  about.  And  after  a  while 
he  said  quietly,  '  Who  do  you  suppose  was  in 
that  cloud  of  witnesses?  ' 


CHAT  BY   THE    WAYSIDE.  23 

" '  I  can't  even  guess,'  says  I,  for  I  didn't  see 
his  drift. 

"  '  Did  you  ever  think,'  says  he,  '  that  you 
can't  read  much  of  the  Bible  without  findin'  that 
somebody  up  there  is  always  comin'  down  here 
to  do  good  ?  ' 

"  '  I  never  thought  of  it  in  that  light,'  says  I ; 
'  it's  a  new  idea.' 

"  '  Well,'  says  he,  '  you  needn't  give  up  lovin' 
Billy,  for  he  hasn't  give  up  lovin'  you,  that's 
sartin.  He's  in  heaven,  but  how  nigh  that  is  to 
the  farm,  and  the  dear  mother  there,  no  one 
can  tell;  but  in  my  judgment  B  lly  is  close 
enough  to  see  what's  goin'  on;  and  if  so,  he's 
sorry  to  see  you  mourn  as  those  who  have  no 
hope.'  That  is  what  Parson  Jessig  said,  and 
I've  never  forgot  it." 

Rastus  was  visibly  affected.  The  memories 
of  other  days  rushed  into  his  mind,  and,  unless 
I  am  mistaken,  there  was  moisture  in  his  eyes. 
As  for  Lije,  he  had  a  warm,  tender  heart,  and 
though  it  would  have  been  impossible  for  him 


24  THE   FARMER  AND    THE   LORD. 

to  shed  a  tear,  he  kept  profoundly  silent,  neither 
shrugging  his  shoulders  nor  otherwise  express 
ing  his  dissent. 

Rastus  couldn't  trust  himself  to  speak  further 
at  the  moment;  so  he  said,  in  a  broken  sort  of 
way,  "  Lije,  I  want  to  ask  you  a  question,  and 
I  want  a  square  answer;  but  just  wait  till  I  plow 
another  furrer  round  the  field,  and  then  I'll  be 
all  right." 

The  sun  was  slanting  to  the  westward,  and 
the  breeze  made  soft  music  in  the  near-by  trees. 
There  were  clouds  in  the  sky,  but  they  floated 
lightly,  and  seemed  to  give  good  cheer  to  the 
scene.  It  was  a  pretty  picture — Rastus  walk 
ing  slowly  behind  his  plow,  his  thoughts  far 
away,  and  Lije  leaning  against  the  stone  wall, 
with  a  stern  look  on  his  face  and  his  strong  jaws 
hard  set. 

"  Whoa!"  and  once  more  the  two  men  faced 
each  other. 

"Well?"  said  Lije. 

"  What  I  want  to  ask  you  is  this.    You  know 


CHAT  BY   THE    WAYSIDE.  2$ 

what  my  religion  has  been  to  me  and  my  fam 
ily.  We've  had  our  share  of  sorrer,  and  reely 
I  don't  know  what  we  would  have  done  if  it 
hadn't  been  for  Parson  Jessig  and  his  encour- 
agin'  talk.  Now  I  'd  like  to  ask  you,  honest, 
Lije,  if  you  don't  think  our  faith  was  a  good 
thing  for  us?  " 

"  Sartin  I  do,  and  I  have  never  denied  it." 
"  Then  don't  you  wish  you  had  some  of  it  for 
yourself,  Lije?     What's  good  for  one  is  good 
for  t'other." 

"  No,  Rastus,  that's  where  you're  mistook. 
I'm  glad  you've  got  religion,  if  you  think  it 
helps  you  any.  But  I  don't  want  any  for  my 
self." 

"  You  never  wish  you  had  it,  eh?  " 
"  No,  never,  Rastus,  and  that's  flat.  I  don't 
see  the  use  of  it.  Believin'  what  ain't  so  may 
be  very  soothin',  but  I'd  rather  believe  what  is 
so,  and  stick  it  out  without  bein'  soothed.  I 
guess  the  truth'll  stand,  and  I  think  I've  got  it. 
If  you're  satisfied,  I'm  satisfied  too.  And  if 


26  THE  FARMER  AND    THE  LORD. 

we're  both  satisfied,  there  isn't  any  more  to  be 
said." 

"  Well,  Lije,  as  long  as  health  lasts,  and 
things  work  all  right  in  the  family,  you  won't 
feel  the  need,'  perhaps,  but  sometime —  " 

"  Then  I  reckon  I'll  wait  till  the  sometime 
comes  before  I  swaller  what  I  can't  understand." 

So  ended  the  conference.  Lije  went  home 
to  his  well-stocked  barn,  his  rich  farm,  his 
healthy  boy  and  girl,  and  remarked  to  himself, 
"  I  guess  I'-ve  got  about  all  that  any  reasonable 
critter  ought  to  ask  for,  and  as  for  meracles  and 
providences  and  new  births  and  them  things, 
well,  it's  all  right  if  you  want  'em,  but  I  don't." 

And  Rastus  went  home  that  night,  and  as  he 
sat  at  the  window  in  the  cool  of  the  evening,  he 
said  to  his  wife :  "  Tildy,  I  don't  think  Lije  is 
very  fur  from  the  kingdom,  but  sometime  he's 
goin'  the  rest  of  the  way,  and  then  I  hope  I'll 
be  here  to  walk  by  his  side  and  cheer  him  on. 
It's  got  to  come,  Tildy,  just  as  sure  as  taxes." 

Then  he  fell  into  a  reverie. 


II. 

LIFE    ON   THE  FARM. 

ELIJAH  TOMKINS  was  in  some  respects  a 
model  man  in  his  family.  He  was  a  good  pro 
vider,  as  the  New  England  phrase  runs,  a 
tender-hearted  husband,  and  an  exceedingly 
affectionate  father. 

His  wife,  Samantha,  was  the  gentlest  creature 
imaginable ;  there  was  nothing  aggressive  in  her 
nature.  She  would  have  lost  her  sleep,  I  think, 
if  she  had  ventured  to  contradict  her  liege  lord. 
He  dominated,  and  she  obeyed,  with  many  a 
sigh — for  sometimes  her  burden  was  heavy  to 
bear — but  without  an  audible  murmur.  For 
years  after  their  marriage  her  relations  with 
religious  folk  were — well,  she  had  none  what 
ever.  The  poor  creature  on  one  occasion,  when 
27 


28  THE  FARMER  ANQ    THE  LORD. 

the  children  were  in  their  teens,  timidly  ex 
pressed  a  desire  to  hear  preaching,  for  she  had 
been  brought  up  by  a  Christian  mother,  and  felt 
the  loss  of  the  Sunday  services;  but  Elijah 
sharply  reproved  her.  "  Ain't  you  got  no  more 
sense,  Samanthy?"  he  said,  in  a  very  cold 
blooded  way,  "  than  to  hanker  after  them  fairy 
tales?  If  there  is  any  God,  can't  you  find  Him 
for  yourself  without  j'inin'  a  picnic  of  pious 
people,  and  listenin'  to  some  man  who  don't 
know  what  he's  talkin'  about?  You'll  get  just 
as  much  good  settin'  under  the  old  elm,  and 
hearin'  the  wind  in  the  branches,  as  by  goin'  to 
meetin'.  I  kin  get  a  mighty  sight  more." 

She  was  rash  enough  to  remonstrate — for  she 
had  grown  desperate,  and  longed  for  that  mys 
terious  something  which  comes  into  the  soul 
even  when  an  unlettered  preacher  offers  prayer, 
and  an  untrained  choir  sings  the  praises  of  the 
Most  High — and  replied,  half  under  her  breath, 
"  Lije,  if  you  do  as  you  please  in  that  matter, 
why  can't  Mary  and  me  do  as  we  please? 


LIFE   ON  THE  FARM.  2 9 

'Tisn't  much  to  ask,  I'm  sure."  Then  she  re 
lapsed  into  silence,  and  Lije  slammed  the  door, 
and  went  out  to  the  barn  to  look  at  a  new 
horse  he  had  bought. 

After  a  little,  however,  his  sense  of  fair  play — 
for  he  prided  himself  on  that — overcame  his  pre 
judices.  "All  right,  Samanthy,"  he  said,  on 
his  return  to  the  house,  "  you  and  Mary  kin  go 
to  meetin'  as  much  as  you  please.  If  it  don't 
do  any  good,  p'r'aps  it  won't  do  no  harm." 
When  explaining  the  concession  to  Rastus, 
which  he  did  in  an  apologetic  way,  as  though 
he  had  exhibited  a  radical  weakness,  he  re 
marked,  "  You  see,  Rastus,  women  is  different 
from  us.  We've  got  the  reasonin'  faculties,  and 
they've  got  the  imagination.  Now  it's  neces 
sary  for  every  woman  to  worship  somethin' — it 
don't  make  any  difference  what,  but  it's  got  to 
be  somethin'.  I  rather  guess  there's  a  strain  of 
the  old  pagan  blood  in  'em.  We  men  have  got 
pretty  nigh  rid  of  it,  but  they  haven't,  and  they 
don't  feel  easy  in  their  minds  unless  they've  got 


30  THE  FARMER  AND    THE  LORD. 

a  idol.  Now  Samanthy  can't  make  a  idol  out 
of  me,  though  she  come  close  to  it  twenty  year 
ago,  and  so  she  makes  a  idol  out  of  religion. 
It's  a  kind  of  home'pathy  remedy,  I  reckon, 
but  she  won't  get  none  of  it  down  my  throat." 

So  there  was  a  tacit  agreement  in  the  family 
that  Samanthy  and  the  daughter  Mary  should 
go  to  church,  but  Sam  and  his  father  were  to 
remain  at  home. 

This  Sam  was  a  magnificent  fellow  to  look 
upon.  Just  six  feet  high,  broad-shouldered, 
big-hearted,  and  generous  to  a  fault — the  sort 
of  boy  to  go  wrong,  by  the  way — he  was  liked 
by  everybody.  You  should  have  seen  him  on 
the  big  pond  in  the  winter,  when  all  the  young 
folks  of  the  village  went  skating,  for  then  he 
was  at  his  best.  He  was  lithe  as  a  willow 
wand,  and  his  muscles  were  like  tempered  steel, 
and  in  a  wrestling-match  he  had  no  equal. 
Physically,  he  was  a  superb  creature,  just  such 
a  one  as  a  sculptor  would  have  been  glad  to 
get  as  a  model. 


•i  LIFE    ON   THE  FARM.  31 

"  Samanthy  and  Mary  are  pretty  hefty  on 
theology,  but  Sam  and  me  don't  believe  nothin', 
so  the  family  averages  pretty  well,"  Lije  was 
wont  to  say  with  a  chuckle.  "  It's  them  against 
us,  and  us  against  them.  Bimeby,  if  the 
women  folks  don't  get  tired  of  their  nonsense, 
we'll  see  how  the  thing  turns  out." 

Late  that  afternoon,  after  the  talk  with 
Rastus,  Lije  went  into  the  kitchen,  where  the 
goodwife  was  preparing  supper. 

"  Samanthy,"  he  began,  "  I've  been  discussin' 
with  Rastus,  and  I'm  hungry." 

"What'll  you  have,  Lije?" 

"  Guess  I  could  get  away  with  a  bjowl  of 
bread  and  milk,  if  you  have  some." 

"  There's  plenty,  I  guess.  Just  wait  till  I 
put  this  pie  into  the  oven,  and  I'll  fetch  it." 

"  Got  any  of  that  brindle  cow's  milk,  have 
you  ?  Seems  as  though  that  was  a  little  richer 
than  the  rest  of  it." 

"Yes,  there's  a  pitcher  of  it  in  the  cellar." 

As  he  crumbled  the  bread  into  the  milk,  he 


32  THE  FARMER   AND    THE  LORD. 

said :  "  Rastus  was  plowin'  up  in  the  northeast 
field,  and  he  up  and  at  me  on  the  subject  of 
meracles,  but  I  guess  I  give  him  as  good  as  he 
sent/' 

Lije  was  in  a  rather  amiable  mood,  and  de 
tailed  the  conversation  at  length.  When  he 
had  reached  the  end  of  his  story,  he  turned  to 
his  wife  with  a  self-satisfied  look,  and  said, 
"  Samanthy,  do  you  know  what  I  think  would 
be  a  real  meracle?  " 

"  No,  I  don't,  Lije." 

"  Well,  if  you  was  to  bake  a  loaf  of  bread  as 
heavy  as  what  I  ate  at  Rastus's  last  week,  I 
should  think  that  was  a  meracle ;  but  you  can't 
do  it." 

Then  he  went  to  the  window.  "  Hullo!"  he 
said,  "  the  wind  has  shifted.  It's  come  round 
to  the  east'ard.  Them  clouds  look  kinder 
threatenin'.  Shouldn't  wonder  if  we  might 
have  rain  to-morrow.  Wall,  it  always  comes 
my  way  if  I  wait  long  enough." 

Then  a  merry  train  of  thought  seemed  to  run 


LIFE   ON   THE  FARM.  33 

through  his  mind,  and  he  broke  into  a  fit  of 
quiet  laughter  with  a  touch  of  sarcasm  in  it. 

"What's  the  matter  with  you,  Lije?"  asked 
the  wife,  as  she  pulled  the  pie  out  of  the  oven 
to  see  that  the  top  crust  didn't  burn.  "You 
are  havin'  a  good  time  all  to  yourself." 

"Do  you  remember,  Samanthy,  that  durin'  the 
drouth,  mebbe  two  weeks  ago,  all  you  pious  peo 
ple  prayed  for  rain?  Say,  have  you  forgot  it?  " 

"Yes,  Lije,"  she  answered,  in  a  quiet  voice, 
"we  prayed  for  what  we  thought  we  needed." 

"  And  you  didn't  get  it,  did  you  ?  " 

"  No,  we  didn't  get  it,  because,  p'r'aps,  after 
all,  we  didn't  need  it." 

"  Didn't  need  it,  eh?  Why,  the  fields  was  as 
dry  as  cork  dust,  and  half  the  crops  was  actu 
ally  burned  up.  Don't  tell  me  we  didn't  need 
it,  for  we  did,  and  the  Lord  knowed  that  just 
as  well  as  Parson  Jessig  did." 

"We  don't  know  everything  Lije,  though 
some  of  us  think  we  do." 

"  No,   I   reckon   we   don't  know   everything 


34 


THE   FARMER  AND    THE   LORD. 


but  we  have  sense  enough  to  know  when  we 
want  rain,  'specially  if  we  see  whole  fields  of 
potatoes  wiltin'  in  the  sun.  You  can't  get 
round  that.  What's  the  use  of  bein'  a  farmer 
if  you  can't  tell  when  your  crops  need  water?  " 

Then  again  Lije  began  to  laugh  to  himself. 

"What  are  you  doin'  now,  Lije?" 

"  Oh,  I  was  merely  thinkin'." 

"  And  what  was  you  thinkin'  ?  " 

"  It  occurred  to  me  that  you  folks  down  to 
the  church  wasted  your  time  prayin'  for  rain, 
when  every  weather-vane  in  the  county  was 
nailed  to  the  west'ard.  If  you  had  waited  till 
now,  and  done  you're  prayin'  this  afternoon, 
you'd  'a'  found  the  wind  to  the  east  when  you 
come  out  of  meetin',  and  you'd  all  said  it  was  a 
direct  answer  to  prayer." 

Sam  came  in  from  the  woodshed  whistling, 
his  cheeks  ruddy  with  health,  as  though  a  stray 
beam  from  some  sunset  had  struck  them. 

"  Hullo,  folks ! "  he  exclaimed  ;  "  going  to  rain, 
isn't  it?" 


LIFE    ON   THE  FARM.  35 

"  How  about  them  cows?  "  asked  Lije. 

"  Cows  are  all  right.  Old  Shorthorn  gave 
me  a  good  chase  for  once." 

"  Did  she,  though?  " 

"  Well,  you'd  have  thought  so  if  you'd  been 
there." 

"  It'll  spile  the  milk  if  she  run  far.  How  did 
it  happen,  Sam?  " 

"  Why,  you  see  Jerry  Peters  went  with  me  to 
the  field  with  his  dog,  and  helped  to  round  up 
the  cattle ;  and  that  dog  took  it  into  his  head  to 
have  some  fun.  So  he  began  to  worry  Short 
horn.  He  got  a  grip  on  her  nose,  and  that 
riled  her.  She  just  lowered  her  head,  and 
for  about  five  minutes  there  was  a  regular 
circus." 

"But  what  were  you  doin',  boy?  Why 
didn't  you  drag  him  off?  " 

"Wait  till  I  tell  you  the  story,  father.  I 
looked  into  that  cow's  eyes,  and  they  were  like 
a  couple  of  lighthouses.  I  concluded  that  she 
was  able  to  take  care  of  herself,  but  I  felt  kind  o' 


36  THE  FARMER  AND    THE  LORD. 

sorry  for  the  dog.  He  didn't  know  what  was 
coming,  but  he  won't  worry  any  more  cows." 

"  Why,  did  Shorthorn  go  for  him?" 

"  The  dog  is  under  the  impression  that  she 
did;  at  least,  he  was  under  that  impression  at 
the  time." 

"  Was  the  dog  hurt?  "  asked  the  mother. 

"  Considerably,  I  reckon.  At  any  rate,  Peters 
went  home  minus  the  cur,  and  he  did  some 
pretty  tall  talking,  too." 

"Did  the  cow  strike  him,  Sam?" 

"That's  what  I  thought,"  replied  Sam. 
"  She  took  him  sidewise,  hit  him  broadside, 
and  the  horn  went  into  him  like  a  knife  into 
cheese.  She  threw  him  ten  feet  into  the  air, 
and  when  he  came  down  he  didn't  even  yelp. 
He  just  lay  where  he  was,  and  he's  there  yet, 
and  will  stay  there  until  some  one  hides  him 
under  the  bushes." 

"  Poor  dog!"  cried  Samanthy. 

"  Ought  to  have  stayed  to  home,"  grunted 
Lije. 


LIFE   ON  THE  FARM.  37 

"  After  that,"  continued  Sam,  "  the  cow  was 
nervous — seemed  as  though  she  had  St.  Vitus's 
dance ;  and  as  I  didn't  care  to  have  her  try  her 
other  horn  on  me,  I  kept  at  a  respectful  dis 
tance.  That  cow  ought  to  have  been  a  bull, 
and  born  in  Spain ;  she  would  have  made  a 
reputation  for  herself.  That's  why  I'm  late. 
Where's  the  milk-pail,  mother?  I've  got  lots 
of  chores  to  do,  and  I  can  smell  that  pie  in  the 
oven.  Well,  Sis,  where  did  you  come  from?  " 

Mary  had  burst  into  the  room,  crying, 
"Mother,  when'll  supper  be  ready?  I'm  as 
nearly  famished  as  a  summer  boarder.  There ! 
Don't  worry  about  setting  the  table.  Wait  half 
a  jiffy  till  I  get  my  hat  and  wrap  off,  and  I'll  be 
with  you." 

It  was  the  work  of  thirty  seconds,  and  as  she 
reappeared  Sam  asked,  "  Where've  you  been, 
Sis?  Come,  confession  is  good  for  the  soul, 
provided  you've  got  the  article  ;  so  make  a  short 
story  of  it." 

"Been?" 


38  THE  FARMER  AND    THE  LORD. 

"  Yes,  been.      Huckleberrying?  " 

"  Not  exactly,"  she  replied,  as  she  spread  the 
white  table-cloth.  "  I  don't  tell  all  I  know, 
Sam,"  and  she  laughed  merrily. 

"  Oh,  I  see.  Having  a  stroll  across  the 
meadow  with  George  Brown,  eh?" 

"  She  needn't  be  ashamed  of  it  if  she  has," 
broke  in  the  father,  who  was  apt  to  take  Mary's 
part  when  she  was  being  teased. 

"  All  the  same,  I've  been  doing  nothing  of 
the  kind,"  she  replied  tartly,  as  the  blood 
mounted  to  her  cheeks.  "  A  Christian  En 
deavor  branch  has  been  organized  in  the  village, 
and,  and " — she  nearly  dropped  a  cup  and 
saucer  in  her  embarrassment — "  they  chose  me 
chairman." 

"Ha,  ha!  Sis,"  laughed  Sam,  "  you're  right 
in  it  up  to  the  chin,  ar'n't  you  ?  I  don't  think 
I'll  take  any,  if  it's  the  same  to  you.  Here, 
mother,  hand  me  that  pail.  I  want  to  get  out 
of  this  religious  atmosphere.  It  is  sort  of  suffo 
cating." 


LIFE   ON   THE  FARM.  39 

"  I  don't  think  a  small  dose  of  religion  would 
do  you  any  harm,  Sam,"  Mary  retorted;  "  just 
a  drop  or  two  to  warm  you  up,  you  know,"  and 
she  too  began  to  laugh. 

"  Stuff  and  nonsense !  The  best  kind  of 
Christian  Endeavor  is  right  here  in  the  kitchen, 
keeping  things  shipshape.  Praying  is  well 
enough,  I  suppose,  when  you  can't  find  any 
thing  better  to  do;  but  I  reckon  there's  more 
religion  in  milking  Brindle  without  letting  her 
kick  the  pail  over  than  you  can  pick  up  in  the 
wrangling  churches  of  Woodbine.  Tra  la  la, 
Sis,  and  you'd  better  spend  an  hour  or  two 
thinking  over  what  I've  said." 

Off  he  went,  a  cheery,  gay-hearted  boy,  with 
the  making  of  a  man  in  him. 

The  father  watched  him  as  he  swung  with 
long  strides  toward  the  barn,  and  said  to  him 
self,  "  A  chip  of  the  old  block ;  Sam  knows 
what  he's  about,  and  I  guess  he  can't  be  fooled." 

Then  he  turned  to  Mary,  who  had  set  the 
table  and  was  ready  for  anything. 


40  THE  FARMER  AND   THE  LORD. 

"  Darter,  what  is  this  Christian  Endeavor 
scheme,  anyhow?" 

He  wanted  to  say,  "  What  is  all  this  humbug 
about?"  But  that  daughter  was  the  apple  of 
his  eye,  and  if  she  wanted  to  be  a  churchwoman 
he  would  fight  for  her  rights,  though  he  hated 
churches  with  a  deadly  hatred. 

She  sat  in  a  chair  at  his  side,  and  took  the 
old  man's  hand  in  a  caressing  sort  of  way. 

"What  do  you  want  to  know  for,  father?" 
she  asked,  with  a  saucy  look.  "  Shall  I  propose 
you  at  the  next  meeting?  Say,  mother, 
wouldn't  it  surprise  folks  if  father  should  walk 
in  as  a  full-fledged  member?"  and  she  broke 
into  a  merry  laugh  at  the  idea. 

There  was  something  sharp  on  his  tongue, 
but  she  put  her  hand  on  his  lips  and  exclaimed, 
"  No,  no,  father ;  I  know  what  you  want  to  say, 
but  you  sha'n't  say  it.  What  mother  and  I  be 
lieve  is  just  as  good  as  what  you  don't  believe ; 
so  you  will  please  keep  still,  or  you  won't  have 


LIFE   ON   THE  FARM.  41 

any  supper.  I'm  a  grown-up  girl  now,  and 
you've  got  to  behave  yourself." 

"  Oh,  I  haven't  nothin'  to  say,"  he  muttered, 
while  a  pleased  smile  lighted  up  his  rugged 
face.  "  You  pray,  and  I  plow.  You  couldn't 
plow,  and  I  couldn't  pray.  That's  all  there  is 
to  it.  But  what  kind  of  a  newfangled  notion 
is  this  ?  What  are  you  endeavorin'  about,  any 
way?" 

"  Well,  listen,  and  if  you  scold  me  I  won't 
say  another  word  to  you  as  long  as  I  live." 

She  liked  to  play  the  tyrant,  and  she  did  it 
admirably ;  so  when  she  raised  her  finger  as  a 
menace,  he  looked  at  her  quizzically,  but  kept 
as  still  as  possible. 

"  You  know,"  she  began,  "  that  there  are  a 
good  many  poor  people  in  Woodbine." 

"  Shiftless,  you  mean,"  he  interjected. 

"Will  you  keep  quiet?"  and  she  put  her 
hand  on  his  arm  as  a  warning. 

"  These  poor  people   are   having  a  terrible 


42  THE  FARMER  AND    THE  LORD. 

struggle  to  get  along.  Phil  &  Kuhn  posted  a 
notice  last  month  that  business  was  dull,  and 
the  mill  would  only  run  on  half-time." 

"Well,  why  shouldn't  they?"  growled  Lije. 
"  They're  not  in  the  philanthropy  business,  are 
they?" 

"  So  there  are  hard  times  in  the  village,  and 
when  winter  comes  they'll  be  harder.  A  month 
ago  Hiram  Golf  suggested — " 

"What,  that  cantin'  shoemaker?" 

"  The  shoemaker  without  the  cant,"  she  re 
plied  sharply.  "  He  suggested  at  a  weekly 
meeting  that  we  organize  a  branch  of  the  Chris 
tian  Endeavor,  and  do  what  we  could  to — " 

"What  can  a  parcel  of  girls  do,  I'd  like  to 
know?  '' 

"  Should  do  what  we  could  to  make  life  com 
fortable  for  these  folks.  There  isn't  any  harm 
in  that,  is  there?  Now  answer  me,  father." 

But  he  had  nothing  to  say. 

"  We  make  visits  on  those  who  are  worst  off, 
and  Mr.  Jessig  preached  a  sermon  and  took  up 


LIFE   ON   THE  FARM.  43 

a  collection  two  weeks  ago.  We  got  a  snug 
little  sum.  I  didn't  have  any  money  with  me, 
but  I  told  them  that  I  had  just  as  good  a  father 
as  any  girl  in  the  world  ever  had,  and  I  pledged 
you  for —  " 

"You  what?"  and  Lije  was  fairly  startled, 
and  began  to  frown. 

"Why,  I  pledged  you  for  five  dollars." 

"  Well,  I  declare !  When  you  get  that  money 
out  of  me,  you  let  me  know,  will  you  ?  Five 
dollars  for  such  trumpery  stuff!  Phew!" 

"  Look  here,  father,  you  don't  want  me  to 
go  back  on  my  word,  and  I  don't  intend  to. 
You've  got  to  pay  that  money,  and  it  won't  do 
to  make  a  wry  face  over  it.  Why,  if  you  had 
been  there  you  would  have  subscribed  ten." 

"You  don't  know  me,  darter;  I  wouldn't 
have  done  any  such  thing.  Five  dollars! 
Phew!  Do  you  think  I'm  made  of  money?" 
and  he  shook  his  head  decisively. 

''  There!  You  needn't  be  obstinate.  You 
will  honor  my  promises,  or  you're  not  the  father 


44  THE  FARMER  AND    THE   LORD. 

I  take  you  to  be.  Have  you  got  the  money  in 
your  wallet?  Pull  it  out  arid  let  me  see.  I 
must  hold  up  my  end,  or  I  wouldn't  be  your 
daughter." 

The  old  man  squirmed,  and  moved  restlessly 
in  his  chair.  "Five  dollars!  You've  been 
terrible  extravagant ! " 

Mary  looked  him  steadily  in  the  face,  and  he 
saw  that  she  was  determined.  He  put  his  hand 
into  his  pocket  and  pulled  out  an  old  leather 
purse.  He  wasn't  accustomed  to  throw  money 
away  after  that  fashion,  and  it  came  hard. 

"  Oh,  what  a  roll  of  bills!"  she  exclaimed. 
"  I  wish  I  had  said  ten."  Then  she  picked  out 
a  fresh  five-dollar  note  and  handed  the  rest 
back,  with,  "  You  are  a  good  father,  and  I'm 
proud  of  you.  Ar'n't  you,  mother?  You 
won't  miss  it,  dear,  and  it  will  do  lots  of  good. 
Now  we  won't  think  any  more  about  it." 

Then  came  the  call  to  supper,  and  Sam 
sauntered  in  with  his  pail  of  milk. 

"  What  do  you  think,  Sam?  "  exclaimed  Lije. 


LIFE   ON  THE  FARM.  45 

"  Don't  do  much  thinking  nowadays ;  it's 
dangerous." 

"  Well,  darter's  just  got  five  dollars  out  of 
me." 

"  What  did  she  do  it  with — a  corkscrew?  " 

"  And  she  made  me  give  the  money  to  them 
Endeavor  fellows." 

"You?" 

"Yes,  me,  for  sartin." 

"Then  the  world's  coming  to  an  end." 

The  old  man  seemed  to  enjoy  the  situation 
hugely.  As  they  sat  at  supper,  he  broke  out 
with,  "Jest  think  of  me  givin'  to  a  church!  I 
guess  I  must  be  in  my  dotage.  Seems  like  I 
was  goin'  back  on  myself." 


III. 

THE  PARSON  COMES   TO  SUPPER. 

ON  a  certain  morning,  some  three  weeks 
later,  Mary  and  the  mother  were  very  busy  in 
the  parlor  with  dust-brush  and  broom.  Ap 
parently  they  were  turning  the  room  upside 
down,  rearranging  the  furniture,  and  trying  to 
make  things  look  as  cheerful  as  possible.  They 
both  worked  with  willing  hands,  because,  for 
some  reason,  they  wanted  the  room  to  look  its 
best.  Evidently  an  unusual  event  was  about 
to  happen. 

Mary  stood  in  the  doorway  to  get  a  better 
view,  and  critically  inspected  the  tout  ensemble, 

"  I  don't  know  but  it  will  do,  mother,"  she 
said  at  length,  as  she  threw  the  dust-brush  over 
her  shoulder  like  a  soldier  at  the  order  to 
46 


THE  PARSON  COMES   TO   SUPPER.          47 

"  carry  arms."  "  Let  me  see!  Suppose  we 
run  the  sofa  over  to  that  corner,  and  put  it 
crisscross.  Don't  you  think  it  would  be  an 
improvement?  " 

"  I  dunno,"  replied  the  old  lady,  with  some 
hesitation.  "  It's  always  been  right  there,  and 
it  might  seem  strange  like  to  have  it  anywhere 
else,  don't  you  think — or  what  do  you  think?" 

"  H'm!  let  us  try  it.  There's  no  reason  why 
it  should  be  in  one  place  forever.  It  will  do 
us  all  good  to  make  a  change,  perhaps.  Just 
catch  hold  of  that  end,  and  we'll  soon  see 
whether  it  will  do  or  not." 

"Well!"  she  exclaimed,  after  it  had  been 
done,  "  I  really  think  the  parlor  looks  better. 
I  wonder  we  hav'n't  thought  of  that  before. 
Why,  you'd  hardly  know  the  room,  would  you? 
Now  I'll  run  out  to  the  west  pasture  and  get  a 
bunch  of  goldenrod  for  the  mantel,  and  then  I 
guess  there'll  be  nothing  to  complain  of.  By 
the  way,  mother,  have  you  anything  special  for 
supper? " 


48  THE  FARMER  AND    THE   LORD. 

"  I've  got  some  cold  lamb ;  won't  that  do?  " 
"Do?  Why,  it's  splendid.  And  then  you've 
got  plenty  of  jam  that  you  made  with  your  own 
hands,  you  dear  thing,  and  after  dinner  we'll 
make  some  crullers.  We'll  have  a  supper  fit 
for  a  king." 

"  But  your  father,  Mary?  "  asked  Samanthy, 
under  her  breath. 

"  Oh,  you  leave  him  to  me.     I'll  take  care  of 
him." 

"  He's  very  set,  you  know,  Mary." 
"  Yes,  and  it's  all  right  for  a  man  to  be  set. 
I  like  to  have  him  so.  But  then  I'm  set,  too, 
just  a  bit,  deary,  and  I  came  by  it  honestly. 
When  father  and  I  clash,  it  reminds  me  of  the 
problem  I  had  in  school :  Wrhen  the  irresistible 
comes  in  contact  with  the  immovable,  what 
happens?"  Mary  was  in  a  cheery  mood. 
"  Don't  you  worry  about  father.  I'm  not  half 
as  afraid  of  him  as  you  are,  and  he  isn't  half  as 
terrible  as  you  think  he  is.  He's  only  a  man, 
and  a  man  doesn't  amount  to  much  when  he 


THE  PARSON  COMES   TO   SUPPER.          49 

has  as  tender  a  heart  as  father  has.  He  looks 
as  stern  as  the  Old  Man  of  the  Mountain  up  in 
New  Hampshire,  but  he  isn't  very  awful,  after 
all." 

"Oh  dear,  what's  that?"  Samanthy  lis 
tened  intently,  and  there  was  just  a  shade  of 
pallor  in  her  cheeks.  "  I  do  believe  it's  your 
father,  Mary." 

"Well,  what  of  it,  dear?  He  isn't  Blue 
beard,  and  we  are  not  in  the  forbidden  chamber. 
Let  him  come  on.  '  This  rock  shall  fly  from  its 
firm  base  as  soon  as  I ! '  '  And  she  assumed  a 
threatening  attitude,  brandished  the  dust-brush, 
and  again  broke  into  laughter. 

The  farmer  was  in  the  kitchen  looking  for 
something.  Of  course  he  couldn't  find  it  with 
out  help.  A  man  can  never  find  anything 
without  the  assistance  of  a  woman,  and  he  is 
forever  under  the  impression  that  when  some 
thing  is  needed,  whether  it  is  a  hoe  or  a  rake  or 
a  slice  of  bread  and  butter,  it  is  the  business  of 
the  "  women  folks  "  to  know  just  where  it  is. 


50  THE  FARMER  AND    THE   LORD. 

So  Lije,  who  was  on  the  still  hunt  for  a  monkey- 
wrench,  looked  everywhere  except  where  he 
had  laid  it  the  day  before,  and  then  impatiently 
called,  "Mother,  where  are  you?  I  say,  Sa- 
manthy,  have  you  quit  the  house  ?  I  want  that 
monkey-wrench,  and  I'd  like  to  know  what 
you've  done  with  it." 

What  she  had  done  with  it,  forsooth!  She 
had  never  had  any  use  for  it,  and  didn't 
know  how  to  manage  the  thing!  But  the 
man  always  says,  "  What  have  you  done  with 
it?" 

"  Here  we  are,  father,"  cried  Mary,  in  her 
most  musical  voice,  and  then  she  began  to  hum 
a  snatch  of  an  old  song,  perhaps  to  keep  her 
courage  up.  A  boy  whistles  just  before  an 
emergency,  and  a  woman  hums.  It  is  for  the 
same  purpose  in  both  cases.  The  object  is  to 
reduce  that  swelling  in  the  throat  which  pre 
cedes  a  transaction  about  which  there  is  more 
or  less  uncertainty. 

The  old  farmer  stood  in  the  doorway,  and 


THE  PARSON  COMES   TO   SUPPER.          51 

gazed  at  the  couple  with  astonishment.  Then 
he  looked  about  the  room,  and  his  astonishment 
increased. 

"Hullo!"  he  exclaimed,  "what  does  this 
mean?  Have  you  been  lettin'  off  a  dynamite 
boom  here?  Every  thin'  has  been  blowed  up. 
What's  that  sofy  doin'  over  there,  I'd  like  to 
know?" 

"How  do  you  like  the  change,  father?"  in 
quired  Mary  quietly.  "  Don't  you  think  it 
looks  better  as  it  is  now?  Come,  you'd  best 
say  Yes  at  once,  for  you  won't  get  another 
chance.  We  live  in  an  age  of  progress,  don't 
you  know,  and  I'm  a  progressive  woman;"  and 
she  marched  up  and  down  the  parlor  like  a 
grenadier  on  dress-parade. 

"Wall,  I  s'pose  I'll  git  used  to  it,"  said  Lije, 
resignedly,  and  he  looked  at  Mary  as  though 
she  were  worth  her  weight  in  gold.  "  It  don't 
make  no  difference  whether  a  sofy  is  here  or 
there,  I  guess,  so  long's  it's  a  sofy.  But  I 
want  that  monkey-wrench.  The  carryall  hasn't 


52  THE  FARMER  AND    THE  LORD. 

been  oiled  for  a  month,  and  I  thought  I'd  do 
the  job  before  dinner." 

"  It's  in  the  east  cupboard,"  answered  Saman- 
thy,  "  about  where  you  put  it  day  before  yes 
terday.  I  don't  believe  it's  run  away  since  that 
time." 

Lije  turned  to  go.  "  Come  back  a  minute, 
father;  I  want  you,"  said  Mary.  "  Tell  me, 
don't  you  think  the  parlor  is  as  pretty  a  room 
as  you  ever  saw?  " 

"  It'll  do,  it'll  do,  but  I  want  that  monkey- 
wrench." 

"  It's  a  nice  room  to  have  company  in,  isn't 
it?"  boldly  broke  forth  Samanthy. 

"Company?"  and  Lije  was  almost  startled. 
"What's  up,  eh?" 

"  Oh,  nothin'  partic'lar;  only  Mr.  Jessig  said 
after  service  Sunday  mornin'  that  he  was  comin' 
in  this  direction  to-day  if  it  was  pleasant,  and 
might  just  call  in  for  a  few  minutes." 

The  women  folks  both  felt  happier  when  the 
secret  was  out.  Mary  looked  steadily  at  her 


THE  PARSON  COMES   TO   SUPPER.          53 

father,  for  she  knew  his  moods,  and  had  long 
ago  discovered  that  the  easiest  way  to  make 
him  bend  was  to  state  a  fact  bluntly.  If  he  saw 
that  you  were  not  afraid  he  was  apt  to  succumb 
to  anything  reasonable,  but  if  you  were  timid  it 
seemed  to  rouse  all  the  tyranny  in  the  man's 
nature. 

"  Parson  Jessig  comin'  here !  Well,  that 
beats  all.  What  on  earth  do  we  want  a  parson 
in  this  house  for?  Ain't  you  folks  runnin' 
things  pretty  strong?  Seems  to  me  it's  ridicu 
lous.  We've  lived  here  for  twenty-six  year, 
and  none  of  these  cantin'  clergy  has  ever  dark 
ened  my  doors,  and  I  tell  you  plainly  that — " 

"  Yes,  father,  and  you  are  quite  right.  I 
agree  that  a  canting  clergyman  is  about  as 
small  a  specimen  as  you  can  find  anywhere." 

"  Yes,  I  always  feel  like  settin'  Tige  on  'em 
when  I  see  'em,"  continued  Lije. 

"  But  Mr.  Jessig  isn't  one  of  that  kind,  father. 
He's  just  a  whole-souled  man,  if  ever  there  was 
one,  and  I'm  sure  you'd  like  him." 


54  THE  FARMER  AND    THE  LORD. 

"  Like  him!"  sneered  Lije.  "  I  hate  him;  I 
hate  the  whole  swarm." 

Then  Mary,  who  saw  that  the  crisis  had 
arrived,  used  a  fine  bit  of  finesse.  She  broke 
into  a  fit  of  laughter,  danced  about  the  room 
flourishing  the  dust-broom,  and  then  cried, 
''I've  got  it,  I've  got  it!" 

"Are  you  crazy,  darter?" 

"  Not  exactly,  father,  but  I'm  about  to  try 
an  experiment,  and  on  you,  you  precious  old 
skeptic.  I  guess  I'll  see  whether  you  are  going 
to  abuse  all  my  friends.  You  mustn't  do  it,  for 
I  won't  stand  it,"  and  she  quietly  put  both 
hands  on  the  old  man's  shoulders.  It  was 
always  half  the  victory  when  she  could  do  that, 
and  it  was  always  a  serious  emergency  when 
she  had  to  do  it. 

"  I'm  going — "  and  she  hesitated,  but  there 
was  a  merry  twinkle  in  her  eyes. 

"  Goin'  to  what?  "  asked  Lije,  who  knew  that 
he  was  already  hopelessly  defeated,  but  tried  to 
make  a  show  of  opposition. 


THE   PARSON  COMES    TO   SUPPER.          55 

"  Why,  I'm  going  to  ask  Mr.  Jessig  to  stay 
to  supper,  and  you  shall  have  a  good  talk  with 
him." 

Lije  was  dumfounded :  for  a  full  minute  he 
couldn't  catch  his  breath. 

"  Look  here,  darter,  you're  goin'  too  far,  and 
I  won't  endure  it." 

"  No,  it's'  all  fixed,  and  I  expect  you  to  be  a 
gracious  host  to  a  gracious  guest,  do  you  hear? 
Now  get  all  your  chores  done  early,  and  come 
in  and  put  on  your  very  best,  I  was  going  to 
say  go-to-meeting,  clothes,  and  we'll  have  a 
real  jolly  evening." 

"  Well,  well,  I  guess  it's  about  time  for  the 
world  to  come  to  an  end.  What  will  Rastus 
Brown  say  when  he  hears  of  these  doin's? 
Tears  to  me  I'm  gettin'  into  rather  deep  water: 
first  you  make  me  give  five  dollars  to  these 
Endeavorers,  and  now  the  parson  is  comin'  to 
supper." 

"Won't  it  be  just  splendid,  though?"  and 
Mary  clapped  her  hands  in  glee. 


56  THE  FARMER  AND    THE  LORD. 

Lije  looked  at  her  in  a  dazed  sort  of  way, 
and  then,  suddenly  pulling  himself  together, 
turned  to  go,  saying,  "Just  find  that  monkey- 
wrench,  will  you  ?  I  want  to  get  out  of  doors, 
for  I'm  pretty  near  chokin'.  I  don't  think  I'm 
Lije  Tomkins  any  more." 

Mary,  little  saint  as  she  was,  saw  the  struggle 
which  the  father  had  had  with  himself,  and 
almost  pitied  him,  for  it  was  only  his  love  for 
her  that  made  him  yield.  With  the  impetuos 
ity  of  a  chivalric  nature,  she  ran  to  him,  put 
her  arms  about  his  neck,  and  kissed  him  on 
either  cheek. 

"  You  are  not  sorry,  father,  are  you  ?  I 
don't  want  to  do  anything  that  would  offend 
you." 

"No,  darter,"  he  answered,  "  no ;  have  your 
own  way.  P'r'aps  it's  best,  after  all." 

For  some  reason  he  seemed  to  be  overcome 
by  Mary's  tenderness;  but  he  instantly  recov 
ered,  and  exclaimed,  almost  sternly,  "  Give  me 
that  monkey-wrench,  will  you  ?  I  can't  stay 


THE   PARSON  COMES    TO   SUPPER.          57 

here  all  day  doin'  nothin';"  and  in  another 
moment  he  was  gone. 

At  about  four  o'clock  that  afternoon  Lije  was 
sitting  in  his  accustomed  seat  in  the  kitchen  and 
feeling  rather  uncomfortable.  He  had  on  his 
best  suit,  and  was  consequently  like  a  fish  out 
of  water.  He  was  exasperated  at  the  visit  of 
Jessig,  and  had  given  his  consent  as  a  matter  of 
sheer  necessity.  "  Fellers  who  trade  on  super 
stition,"  he  used  to  say,  "  I  don't  want  nothin' 
to  do  with  'em."  He  found  a  modicum  of  con 
solation,  however,  in  the  clay  pipe  which  he 
pulled  at  with  unusual  vigor,  sending  angry 
clouds  of  smoke  to  the  ceiling.  Samanthy  and 
Mary  were  upstairs  "  tidyin'  themselves  up " 
and  getting  ready  to  receive  their  visitor  with 
all  possible  formality. 

As  Lije  glanced  through  the  window  he  saw 
two  men  in  a  Concord  wagon  turn  in  at  the 
gate.  He  didn't  recognize  either  of  them,  for 
they  were  partly  hidden  by  the  trees.  He  went 
to  the  front  door,  however,  to  see  what  was 


58  THE  FARMER  AND    THE  LORD. 

wanted,  when  he  exclaimed,  in  great  surprise, 
"  Why,  Sam,  is  that  you,  boy  ?  What's  up,  eh  ? 
Where  did  you  leave  the  team?" 

"Yes,  I'm  right  here,  father,"  said  Sam 
cheerily,  "  and  you  can  thank  this  stranger  for 
bringing  me  here." 

"  Well,  well,  I  must  say  I  don't  understand. 
Has  anythin'  broke  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  I  had  on  a  heavy  load,  you  know,  and 
that  off  horse,  Billy  " — here  he  sprang  from  the 
wagon  to  the  porch  steps — "  was  terribly  ner 
vous.  I  think  you'll  have  to  sell  him,  father; 
he  can't  be  depended  on.  We  got  across  the 
bridge  all  right,  but  that  confounded  mud-hole 
at  the  foot  of  the  hill  is  what  brought  us  up  all 
standing.  I  told  Tim  to  be  careful  and  steer 
clear  of  it,  but  the  first  thing  I  knew  the  wheel 
went  slump  into  it.  Tim  and  I  tugged  away 
with  all  our  might,  but  Billy  was  in  the  dumps 
and  wouldn't  draw." 

"  I'll  sell  him,  for  sartin,"  interjected  Lije. 


THE  PARSON  COMES    TO   SUPPER.          59 

"  I  don't  think  we'd  have  got  home  to-night  if 
it  hadn't  been  for  this  gentleman.  He  tied  his 
horse  to  a  fence,  and  then  he  and  I  put  our 
shoulders  to  that  wheel,  while  Tim  coaxed  the 
horses;  but  the  thing  wouldn't  budge." 

All  this  time  the  stranger  was  looking  on  at 
the  scene  in  an  amused  sort  of  way,  and  when 
Sam  referred  to  him  in  such  pleasant  terms  he 
made  a  gesture  of  deprecation.  "  It  was  noth 
ing,  I  assure  you.  I  was  only  too  glad  to  be  of 
service." 

"Where's  your  team  now,  Sam?" 

"  Oh,  it's  all  right ;  and  it'll  be  here  in  half  an 
hour.  You  see,  father,  this  gentleman  noticed 
that  Tim  only  riled  Billy  and  made  him  more 
balky  than  ever.  So  he  said  to  Tim,  '  You 
come  here  and  try  at  the  wheel,  and  I'll  handle 
the  horse.  I  was  brought  up  with  such  critters 
as  that.'  So  he  just  took  Billy  by  the  bit,  and 
in  about  two  minutes  had  got  him  into  a  rea 
sonable  frame  of  mind.  '  Now  then,'  he  said, 


60  THE  FARMER  AND    THE   LORD. 

'  when  I  give  the  word  you  two  do  your  best, 
and  Billy  and  I  will  help.'  I  don't  know  what 
he  said  to  the  horse,  but  he  talked  to  him  as 
though  he  had  been  a  horse  himself  some 
time " — at  which  the  stranger  chuckled  heart 
ily — "  and  then  of  a  sudden  cried, '  Come,  Billy/ 
and  yelled  to  us  to  give  the  wheel  a  hoist. 
I  thought  the  harness  would  snap,  for  those 
horses  pulled  as  they  never  pulled  before,  and 
out  of  the  hole  came  the  wagon." 

"  Thank  you,  stranger,"  said  Lije  heartily. 
"  Tisn't  every  man  would  have  done  it,  an' 
I'm  obleeged.  I'd  ask  you  to  come  in,  but  the 
women  folks  expects  company." 

"  Well,  I'll  tell  the  rest  if  you  please,  father. 
I  knew  I'd  be  late  for  supper  unless  I  hurried 
up,  and  said  so,  when  the  stranger  remarked 
that  he  was  coming  my  way,  and  would  put  me 
down  at  the  house.  I  told  him  the  parson  was 
going  to  inflict  himself  on  us  for  the  evening, 
and  I  had  a  curiosity  to  see  what  kind  of  a 
monstrosity  he  was.  I  wanted  to  get  home  be- 


THE   PARSON  COMES    TO   SUPPER.          6 1 

fore  he  arrived,  so's  to  rig  up  and  receive  him 
with  all  the  honors." 

Then  father  and  son  had  a  very  merry  two 
minutes.  Lije  enjoyed  Sam's  criticism  amaz 
ingly,  but  the  stranger  seemed  somewhat  em 
barrassed  at  the  turn  of  affairs,  and  had  just  got 
as  far  as  "  Excuse  me,  neighbors,  but  perhaps  I 
ought  to  explain — "  when  Samanthy  and  Mary 
appeared  on  the  porch. 

Samanthy  actually  ran  down  the  steps  in  her 
eagerness  of  welcome,  exclaiming,  "  Well,  how 
do  you  do,  Mr.  Jessig?  I'm  right  glad  to  see 
you.  Come  into  the  house,  and  Sam  will  put 
the  horse  in  the  barn." 

The  secret  was  out.  Then  this  stranger  was 
Jessig  himself,  the  parson!  For  about  thirty 
seconds  Lije  looked  at  Sam  and  Sam  looked  at 
Lije,  but  neither  of  them  uttered  a  word.  Then 
Jessig  broke  into  a  fit  of  uncontrolled  laughter, 
in  which  everybody  joined. 

"  This  is  a  very  pleasant  introduction  to  your 
family  circle,  Mr.  Tomkins,"  he  said,  "  and  I 


62  THE  FARMER  AND    THE  LORD. 

have  no  doubt  we  shall  get  on  very  well  to 
gether." 

The  four  went  indoors,  while  Sam,  making  a 
few  remarks  to  himself  in  an  undertone,  led  the 
parson's  horse  to  the  barn. 


IV. 

A    HOT  DISCUSSION. 

THE  incident  just  related  seemed  to  place 
Jessig  and  the  farmer's  family  en  rapport  with 
each  other.  It  was  referred  to  again  and  again 
during  supper,  and  both  Sam  and  his  father  for 
got  their  antagonism  to  all  parsons,  and  treated 
Jessig  as  they  would  have  treated  any  other 
neighbor  who  had  chanced  to  call  at  the  even 
ing-meal  hour. 

The  minister  remarked,  as  he  took  his  seat  at 
table,  that  he  had  had  a  hard  day's  work  and 
could  get  only  a  bite  for  dinner,  so  he  must  be 
excused  if  he  indulged  in  their  good  things 
pretty  largely.  "  A  man  with  a  perfect  diges 
tion,"  he  said,  with  a  smile,  "  has  something  to 
be  proud  of,  and  if  you  will  allow  me  I  propose 
to  do  ample  justice  to  this  delicious  supper." 
63 


64  THE   FARMER  AND    THE   LORD. 

That  was  a  subtle  compliment  to  Samanthy's 
housekeeping,  and  she  floated  away  into  the 
seventh  heaven  at  once.  Jessig  entered  heart 
ily  into  the  family  life,  asked  concerning  the 
crops,  and  discoursed  in  a  happy  vein  about  the 
care  of  cattle.  He  talked  politics,  related  some 
humorous  experiences  he  had  recently  had  with 
the  hands  at  the  mill,  and  fairly  won  Lije's 
heart. 

I  can't  help  regarding  Jessig  as  a  remarkable 
and  therefore  a  very  exceptional  fellow.  He 
was  always  the  minister,  but  he  never  forgot 
that  he  was  also  a  man.  He  was  willing  to  do 
Christ's  work  in  Christ's  way,  and  was  conse 
quently  satisfied  with  his  little  sphere  in  the 
village  of  Woodbine.  Most  ministers' want  to 
do  Christ's  work  in  their  own  way,  and  hunger 
for  a  settlement  over  some  rich  and  fashionable 
parish.  Jessig  expected  to  go  to  heaven  after 
a  while,  but  he  was  anxious  to  have  as  many  go 
with  him  as  possible.  He  very  seldom  talked 
about  religion  in  set  terms,  but  any  one  could 


A    HOT  DISCUSSION.  65 

see  by  his  bearing  that  religious  manliness  was 
his  strong  peculiarity. 

Moreover,  he  was  tolerant  of  adverse  opin 
ions.  How  could  it  be  otherwise  when  he  had 
associated  almost  daily  with  Hiram  Golf,  the 
shoemaker,  for  over  two  years  ?  He  had  looked 
forward  to  this  visit  to  the  farm,  for  Lije,  as  the 
village  folks  said,  was  a  hard  nut  to  crack. 
Besides,  Jessig  had  more  than  once  remarked  to 
himself  that  he  was  so  accustomed  to  take  reli 
gious  truths  for  granted  that  it  would  be  an  in 
tellectual  refreshment  to  come  into  contact  with 
a  thoughtful  man  who  doubted  pretty  nearly 
everything  and  could  give  some  reason  for 
doing  so. 

Hiram  once  said  to  him,  "  Parson,  don't  talk 
religion  too  much.  Just  simply  BE  religious, 
and  yoVll  give  'em  an  argyment  they  can't  get 
over."  Jessig  had  never  forgotten  that,  and  he 
adopted  the  sentiment  as  a  policy.  As  a  conse 
quence,  he  was  respected  by  that  large  class 
which  may  be  found  in  every  manufacturing 


66  THE  FARMER  AND    THE  LORD. 

district,  who  do  not  take  the  trouble  to  have 
religious  opinions,  and  who  look  at  churches  as 
the  fad  of  many  women  and  some  men. 

When  Lije  was  out  in  the  barn  that  afternoon 
looking  at  the  feed  in.  the  corn  and  oat  bins  he 
couldn't  tell  whether  he  was  glad  or  mad  at  the 
parson  for  coming.  "  I  never  was  acquainted 
with  one  of  them  pious  folks  who  knowed 
much,"  he  said,  in  soliloquy;  and  as  he  had  al 
ways  avoided  personal  interviews  with  clergy 
men  I  shall  not  take  any  pains  to  contradict  his 
statement.  "  Let  me  see  " — he  lifted  the  lids 
of  the  bins — "  I  guess  there's  cracked  corn 
enough  for  the  horses  to  chew  on  for  a  fortnight 
longer;"  and  then,  with  a  chuckle,  "  I  reckon  if 
I  get  that  minister  alone  for  half  an  hour  I'll 
give  him  one  or  two  problems  to  chew  on,  too. 
I'll  mighty  soon  find  out  what  sort  of  stuff  he's 
made  of." 

When  the  supper  was  over  the  women  busied 
themselves  for  a  while  with  the  dishes,  Sam 
went  to  see  that  the  cows  were  all  right  for  the 


A   HOT  DISCUSSION.  67 

night,  and  the  farmer  and  Jessig  sat  on  the 
porch.  Lije  filled  his  pipe.  It  was  a  superb 
evening,  and  the  last  rays  of  sunset  empurpled 
the  clouds  in  the  west.  A  hazy  atmosphere 
covered  the  landscape,  and  nothing  could  be 
heard  except  the  last  chirp  of  the  birds  for  the 
day  and  the  drowsy  hum  of  insects. 

Lije  was  in  a  controversial  mood.  He  was 
like  a  war-horse  chafing  at  the  bit  and  pawing 
the  ground  before  a  battle.  Jessig  intuitively 
took  in  the  situation,  and  calmly  awaited  devel 
opments.  He  didn't  propose  to  strike  the  first 
blow,  and  so  began  to  talk  about  the  beauties  of 
nature.  Lije  grew  restless,  but  soon  eased  his 
mind  by  saying  bluntly : 

"  Parson,  I  don't  believe  in  your  religion,  an' 
I  don't  care  who  knows  it." 

That  was  the  blast  of  the  trumpeter  calling 
the  sir  knights  to  the  tournament. 

''Well,"  replied  Jessig  quietly,  "  what  of  it? 
You  have  a  perfect  right  not  to  believe,  and  I 
should  be  the  last  person  to  interfere  with  you. 


68  THE  FARMER   AND    THE   LORD. 

Everybody  is  bound  to  follow  his  own  judg 
ment,  wherever  it  may  lead." 

"  No,  I  don't  believe  in  religion,"  continued 
Lije  defiantly,  "  an'  I  don't  think  much  of  the 
brains  of  them  that  do." 

"  Oh,  indeed!" 

"Yes,  that's  it  exactly." 

"Well,  you  are  hardly  fair,  are  you,  farmer? 
Aren't  you  a  bit  uncharitable?  " 

"Why  am  I?" 

"  Because  you  have  no  patience  with  a  man 
who  doesn't  think  just  as  you  do.  That  is  what 
you  imply,  isn't  it?  " 

"  Not  as  I  know  of  I  don't,"  and  the  response 
was  a  bit  sullen.  "  I'd  like  to  know  how  you 
make  that  out." 

"  You  say  you  have  some  very  decided  opin 
ions  on  the  subject  of  religion?  " 

"Precisely." 

"  And  you  add  that  if  any  one  has  equally 
decided  opinions  on  the  other  side  of  the  ques 
tion  he  can't  have  a  well-regulated  mind.  Ex- 


A   HOT  DISCUSSION.  69 

cuse  me,  neighbor,  but  I  don't  think  it's  quite 
nice  of  you  to  say  that.  For  example,  take  my 
own  case.  I  believe  a  great  many  things  that 
you  do  not,  but  does  it  follow  that  I  haven't 
any  reasons  for  my  belief  and  that  my  brain  is 
out  of  order?  " 

"  I  can't  see  how  any  one  can  believe  what 
you  are  supposed  to  believe,  an'  I've  always 
said  there  was  a  lot  of  hypocrisy  in  it. "  Lije  was 
desperate. 

"  Well,  farmer,  there  are  some  things  which 
no  man  has  a  right  to  do,  and  one  of  them  is  to 
insist  that  he  is  the  only  one  in  the  world  who 
has  got  the  truth.  It  strikes  me  that  you  have 
too  high  an  opinion  of  yourself  when  you  say 
that  unless  every  one  sees  just  what  you  see 
there  must  be  something  the  matter  with  his 
eyes.  Now  my  theory  is  very  different  from 
that." 

"  Wall,  how  does  it  look  to  you,  parson?  " 

"Why,  I  believe  certain  things,  and  you 
don't.  I  know  whv  I  believe  them,  and  you 


70  THE   FARMER  AND    THE   LORD. 

know  why  you  don't  believe  them.  You've  got 
brains  and  so  have  I.  You  want  the  truth  and 
nothing  but  the  truth,  and  so  do  I.  Now  are 
you  going  to  call  me  a  fool,  or  am  I  going  to 
call  you  a  fool?  If  we  do,  then  we  are  really 
fools.  But  if  we  are  honest  men  we  shall  hon 
estly  differ,  and  still  maintain  our  respect  and 
love  for  each  other.  Now  it  strikes  me  that  I 
am  a  little  fairer  than  you  are." 

Lije  puffed  at  his  pipe.  He  intended  to  give 
the  parson  something  to  chew  on,  but  the  par 
son  had  given  it  to  him  instead.  However,  he 
wasn't  through  by  any  means.  He  shrewdly 
turned  the  conversation,  saying,  "  Now  there's 
my  boy  Sam.  Isn't  he  about  right,  parson?" 

"  Yes,  physically,  he's  a  fine  fellow.  When 
I  saw  him  put  his  shoulder  to  the  wheel  of  that 
mired  wagon,  and  the  blood  rush  into  his  face 
as  he  strained  every  muscle,  I  thought  I  had 
never  seen  a  finer  example  of  manliness." 

"  He's  got  brains  too,"  Lije  hastened  to  add. 

"  No  doubt,  no  doubt.      I  spoke  of  his  body 


A   HOT  DISCUSSION.  71 

because  I  have  seen  what  he  can  do  with  it.  I 
haven't  had  an  opportunity  to  see  his  mind  yet, 
but  if  mind  and  body  are  equal  you  may  well 
be  proud  of  him." 

"  He  flies  off  once  in  a  while,  as  I  wish  he 
didn't,"  and  a  shade  passed  over  the  farmer's 
face ;  "  but  that's  only  the  wild  oats  which 
everybody  sows.  I  s'pose  I  sowed  a  lot  in  my 
time,  but  I  don't  happen  to  remember  it.  He's 
got  in  with  some  fellows  down  in  the  village, 
but  he'll  stiffen  up  in  time  and  come  out  the 
best  foot  forrard.  Parson,  you're  right;  I  am 
proud  of  him." 

Jessig  nodded  approvingly. 

"  Now  that  boy  was  brought  up  on  my 
idees." 

"  Ah!  " 

"  He  had  good  schoolin',  an'  is  fond  of  his 
books.  But  I  said  when  he  was  born  that  he 
shouldn't  be  hampered  by  any  religious  notions. 
He  should  grow  up  just  as  natur'  intended,  an' 
he  has." 


72  THE  FARMER   AND    THE  LORD. 

"  Yes  ?  And  you  are  satisfied  with  the  result  ?  " 

"  So  far,  I  am.  He  hasn't  an  ounce  of  theol 
ogy  in  his  whole  system,  no  pizen  in  his  blood 
of  that  kind.  What  he  wants  to  do  he  does, 
an'  what  he  don't  want  to  do  he  don't  do. 
He's  about  as  square  as  boys  ever  are,  I  guess, 
an'  he'll  learn  after  a  while  how  to  blaze  his 
way  to  a  farm  of  his  own." 

Jessig  was  silent  for  a  few  moments;  he  was 
pondering  a  very  difficult  problem,  and  hardly 
knew  how  to  manage  it.  At  length,  however, 
he  said,  with  apparent  irrelevancy,  "  Farmer, 
that's  a  fine  field  you  have  just  over  the  hillside 
yonder." 

Lije  was  partly  offended,  because  he  thought 
Jessig  didn't  regard  his  statements  as  worth  an 
swering  ;  but  this  yielded  to  the  conviction  that 
he  had  given  the  parson  a  poser,  and  he  couldn't 
answer  it. 

"  Yes,"  he  said,  but  rather  glumly,  as  he 
looked  in  the  direction  of  the  field,  "  that's  the 
four  best  acres  on  the  farm." 


A   HOT  DISCUSSION.  73 

"  Were  they  originally  the  best,  farmer,  or 
have  you  made  them  so?  " 

"  O  parson,  land  isn't  made  rich  except 
in  one  way.  Some  plots  are  better'n  others, 
but  in  this  section  of  the  world  it's  all  poor 
enough.  If  you  want  to  get  a  crop  you've  got 
to  put  in  the  work.  That  field  has  cost  me  a 
pile  of  trouble.  It  was  pretty  stony  to  start 
with,  but  see  how  even  the  sod  is  now ;  there 
isn't  a  stone  to  be  seen." 

"  But  it  has  paid  for  the  labor  expended,  has 
it?" 

"  Yes,  sartin.  Still,  there's  one  botheration. 
The  weeds  grow  like  all  possessed.  I  wish  land 
could  be  made  that  would  raise  wheat  and  po 
tatoes  but  would  kill  weeds.  No  use,  though. 
If  you  want  to  get  a  first-class  crop  out  of  that 
land,  you've  got  to  stay  up  nights  pullin' 
weeds." 

"  It's  a  curious  law,  neighbor,  isn't  it,  that  if 
you  don't  watch  the  weeds  you  can't  have  your 
potatoes  or  corn  ?  " 


74  THE  FARMER  AND   THE  LORD. 

"  Yes,  cur'ous  enough ;  but  it's  the  law,  all 
the  same,  an'  the  sooner  you  re-cog-nize  it, 
an'  govern  yourself  accordin'ly,  the  better  off 
you  are.  I  don't  believe  in  goin'  contrary  to 
law." 

"  Now  tell  me  something,  farmer,  will  you?  " 

"Sartin,  if  I  can." 

"  Why  do  you  interfere  with  the  weeds  ? 
Why  not  sow  your  seed,  and  then  just  leave  the 
field  to  take  care  of  itself?  Haven't  the  weeds 
as  good  a  right  to  grow  as  the  potatoes  ?  And 
if  you  leave  matters  to  take  care  of  themselves, 
will  they  or  won't  they  do  it?  " 

Lije  looked  at  Jessig,  but  didn't  see  the  faint 
smile  that  was  playing  about  his  lips.  He  was 
almost  impatient  as  he  said : 

"  Parson,  you  may  be  a  very  good  preacher, 
but  you'd  make  a  mighty  poor  farmer.  If  you 
had  this  land  I  guess  you'd  be  bankrupt  in 
about  two  year." 

"  Ah,  yes,  perhaps ;  but  you  see  I  was  just 
thinking,  neighbor  Tomkins." 


A   HOT  DISCUSSION.  75 

"Thinkin',  was  you?  Well,  your  thinkin' 
don't  amount  to  much  if  that's  the  best  you  can 
do." 

"  I  was  very  much  interested  in  what  you 
were  saying.  You  assert  that  if  you  don't  train 
your  field,  so  to  speak,  by  plowing  and  manur 
ing,  and  if,  after  doing  that,  you  don't  keep  an 
eye  on  the  weeds,  you  won't  have  any  crop." 

"  Of  course  I  do.  Ask  any  farmer  in  the 
county  an'  he'll  tell  you  the  same  thing.  A 
man  might  as  well  sell  out  before  he  begins, 
unless  he  plows  an'  manures  an'  keeps  at  the 
weed-pullin'." 

"  Wouldn't  land  grow  a  crop  if  you  let  it 
have  its  own  way,  allowed  it  to  do  what  its  own 
nature  inclined  it  to  do?  " 

Lije  burst  into  a  loud  laugh.  "Wall,"  he 
said  sneeringly,  as  though  he  would  reprove  the 
parson  for  his  folly,  "  don't  you  never  buy  a 
farm,  if  you  intend  to  act  on  them  principles. 
Better  stick  to  the  pulpit,  for  you  wouldn't 
earn  your  salt." 


76  THE  FARMER   AND    THE   LORD. 

"  Oh,  don't  mistake  me,  neighbor;  I  entirely 
agree  with  you  in  all  you  have  said." 

"  You  do,  eh  ?  What  for,  then,  have  you 
been  puttin'  such  foolish  questions?  Seems 
rather  queer,  doesn't  it?" 

"  No,  I  think  not,"  and  Jessig  had  a  very 
thoughtful  air.  His  voice  was  low  and  calm,  as 
it  always  was  when  he  was  in  deadly  earnest. 
"  No,  farmer,  I  think  not ;  but  I  was  wonder 
ing  why  you  believe  in  educating  your  field 
and  don't  believe  in  educating  your  son." 

Lije  saw  the  point  of  the  discussion  at  last, 
and  looked  at  Jessig  in  a  dumfounded  sort  of 
way. 

"There's  a  big  difference,"  he  muttered, 
"  between  a  potato-field  and  a  boy." 

"  Oh  yes,  a  very  big  difference,  since  it  is  a 
thousand  times  more  important  for  the  boy  to 
go  right  than  for  the  field  to  do  so.  I  can't 
quite  see  why  weeds  won't  grow  in  the  boy's 
life  just  as  they  do  in  the  field  unless  you  keep 
a  good  lookout  for  them.  When  I  was  a 


A    HOT  DISCUSSION.  77 

youngster  it  took  all  the  influences  that  could 
be  brought  to  bear  to  keep  me  straight.  If  I 
had  been  brought  up  on  the  policy  which  you 
seem  to  think  best  I  don't  know  what  would 
have  become  of  me." 

The  farmer  was  cornered,  and  he  knew  it. 
He  was  just  saying,  "  Don't  worry  about  Sam ; 
he'll  square  up  by  and  by,"  when  Samanthy  and 
Mary  came  upon  the  porch. 

"We  ain't  disturbin'  you,  are  we?"  asked 
Samanthy  timidly. 

"  No ;  I  was  thinkin'  it  was  about  time  for 
you  to  come,"  remarked  Lije  courteously,  and 
I  rather  think  he  felt  greatly  relieved.  A  few 
minutes  later  Sam  appeared,  and  the  little  circle 
was  complete. 

The  conversation  ran  on  very  pleasantly  for 
an  hour  after  that,  and  everybody  seemed  to  be 
happy.  All  sorts  of  subjects,  from  the  latest 
fashions  in  bonnets  to  the  comet  which  had  just 
been  discovered,  were  touched  upon,  and  Jessig 
was  on  the  point  of  saying  that  he  must  be 


78  THE  FARMER  AND    THE  LORD. 

going  home,  when  Lije,  who  wasn't  exactly  satis 
fied  with  the  result  of  his  controversies,  returned 
desperately  to  the  fray. 

"  I  had  a  set-to  with  Rastus  Brown  the  other 
day  on  meracles,  parson.  I  guess  he  thinks 
there  are  such  things,  but  I  hear  from  the 
papers  that  the  best  students  nowadays  have 
kind  of  given  'em  up." 

Jessig  was*not  at  all  eager  for  a  dispute,  for 
he  wanted  the  visit  to  end  as  pleasantly  as  it 
had  begun,  but  at  the  same  time  he  didn't  in 
tend  to  shirk  one.  He  failed  to  make  answer 
for  a  moment,  long  enough  for  Sam  and  his 
father  to  exchange  glances,  and  Mary  and  Sa- 
manthy  to  move  uneasily  in  their  chairs. 

"  What  do  you  say,  parson?  "  and  the  farmer 
seemed  like  a  toreador  trying  to  madden  the 
bull  in  the  arena  by  pricking  him  with  the  point 
of  his  spear. 

"  Oh,  it's  a  large  subject,"  said  Jessig  at 
length,  "  and  the  stars  are  out,  and  I  must  go 
home." 


A    HOT  DISCUSSION.  79 

Lije  thought  he  had  found  a  weak  spot  in 
Jessig's  armor,  and  if  that  were  so  he  didn't  pro 
pose  to  let  him  off.  "  I've  thought  a  good  deal  on 
the  matter,"  he  said,  "  an'  I  can't  find  no  reason 
for  'em  at  all.  Can  you  ?  " 

The  minister  saw  that  he  was  in  for  it,  and 
that  he  must  either  fight  or  run.  So  he  settled 
himself  quietly  in  his  chair,  saying : 

"  Neighbor,  what  do  you  mean  by  a  mir 
acle?" 

"  Somethin'  that's  teetotally  ag'in'  natur', 
that's  what  I  mean." 

"  Then  we  needn't  have  any  discussion,  for  I 
entirely  agree  with  you,"  he  responded. 

"  You  do  ?  Wall,  I'm  glad  of  it.  You  don't 
believe  in  them  meracles  in  the  New  Testament 
then,  I  reckon?  " 

"  Oh  yes,  I  do,"  was  the  quick  answer. 

"Ain't  they  ag'in'  natur'?"  asked  Lije. 

"  I  think  there  is  a  little  confusion  between 
us,"  said'Jessig.  "  Suppose  we  clear  it  up  so 
as  to  see  what  we  are  driving  at.  What  do  you 


80  THE  FARMER  AND    THE   LORD. 

mean  when  you  say  that  a  miracle  is  against 
nature?  " 

"  I  mean  that  a  meracle  goes  ag'in'  all  the 
laws  of  natur'.  Isn't  that  plain  enough,  par 
son?" 

"  Not  quite,"  said  Jessig.  "Do  you  mean 
that  a  miracle  contradicts  all  laws  of  nature,  or 
merely  those  with  which  we  are  familiar?  If 
we  were  thoroughly  acquainted  with  the  whole 
range  of  nature,  and  then  something  should  be 
said  to  occur  which  was  contrary  to  our  know 
ledge,  I  think  we  should  be  justified  in  doubt 
ing  it ;  but  if  an  occurrence  is  based  on  as  good 
testimony  as  any  other  fact  of  history,  I  think 
we  should  hesitate  to  reject  it  simply  because 
nothing  of  the  kind  has  ever  happened  in  our 
own  experience.  Our  experience  is  somewhat 
limited,  and  it  is  dangerous  to  say  that  this, 
that,  or  the  other  thing  can't  possibly  have 
occurred." 

"  But  raisin'  a  dead  man  to  life  is  ag'in'  what 
you  know  anythin'  about,  isn't  it,  parson?  " 


A    HOT  DISCUSSION.  8  I 

"  Certainly  it  is.  But  if  a  dozen  or  a  hundred 
persons  were  present  and  saw  it  done,  and  we 
have  their  testimony  to  that  fact,  we  must  do 
one  of  two  things :  either  deny  the  fact  for  no 
other  reason  than  that  we  were  not  there  our 
selves  to  see  it,  or  else  admit  it  on  the  evidence, 
and  account  for  it  by  a  range  of  laws  which  we 
as  yet  know  nothing  about.  Or  possibly  we 
might  not  try  to  account  for  it  at  all." 

"That  would  be  pretty  slim  reasonin',"  re 
torted  Lije.  "  The  best  way  is  to  brush  all 
them  things  aside  an'  stick  to  your  common 
sense.  I  guess  I've  got  you  there,  parson,"  and 
Lije  was  triumphant. 

"Now  I'll  tell  you  somethin',"  he  continued. 
"  The  other  evenin',  while  we  was  in  the  kitchen, 
darter  here  read  a  story  about  them  Indian 
jugglers.  It  seems  that  one  of  'em  stood  out 
in  front  of  the  crowd  with  a  long  rope  in  his 
hand.  All  to  once  he  twirled,  the  rope  round 
an'  flung  it  straight  up  in  the  air.  One  end 
didn't  come  down,  an'  after  a  minute  or  two 


82  THE  FARMER  AND    THE   LORD. 

the  juggler  climbed  up  that  rope  hand  over 
hand,  an'  then  pulled  the  rope  up  after  him. 
He  threw  it  up  ag'in,  an'  that  time  climbed  up 
clear  out  of  sight." 

"  Rather  odd,  wasn't  it?  "  remarked  Jessig. 

"Odd!  Why,  parson,  that  was  a  meracle," 
and  he  laughed;  "just  such  a  meracle  as  you 
say  you  believe  in." 

"But  you  don't  believe  it,  farmer?" 

"  Wall,  no,  I  guess  not ;  but  it's  just  as  rea 
sonable  as  the  stuff  the  people  is  told  is  real 
history." 

I  think  Lije  was  profoundly  happy  while  tell 
ing  this  story,  for  he  was  sure  that  the  parson 
could  find  no  way  to  crawl  out. 

"  Your  illustration,"  said  Jessig,  after  a  little, 
"  is  admirable.  I  doubt  if  a  better  one  could 
be  found.  Now  suppose  that  this  juggler  were 
here  to-night,  and  should  disappear  in  the  air  in 
the  same  way,  and  you  should  see  it  with  your 
own  eyes,  what  would  you  say?  " 

"  I   guess   he  would   be   so   astonished   that 


A    HOT  DISCUSSION.  83 

he  wouldn't  say  anything,"  interjected  Sam. 
"  He'd  think  he  had  brain-fever,  and  put  for 
his  bed." 

"  It  would  be  a  meracle,  parson,  wouldn't  it?  " 

"  To  whom  would  it  be  a  miracle?"  asked 
Jessig. 

"Wall,  I  reckon  to  everybody  who  saw  it," 
sneered  Lije. 

"  No,  not  exactly,"  remarked  Jessig. 

The  little  company  all  turned  toward  Jessig, 
for  his  statement  was  somewhat  remarkable. 

"  No,"  he  repeated,  "  not  exactly.  It  would 
be  a  miracle  to  as  who  were  looking  on,  and 
didn't  understand  how  it  was  done ;  but  to  the 
man  who  did  it  and  understood  how  he  did  it  it 
would  not  be  a  miracle  at  all." 

"  Everything"  persisted  Lije,  "goes  by  law, 
an'  what's  ag'in'  law  is  ag'in'  common  sense." 

"  Precisely,  and  nothing  has  ever  happened 
that  contravened  a  law.  Now  that  juggler  hap 
pens  to  be  acquainted  with  a  law  that  we  know 
nothing  about,  and  in  accordance  with  that  law 


84  THE  FARMER   AND    THE   LORD. 

he  throws  the  rope,  and  the  end  stays  in  the  air, 
and  he  can  climb  up  to  it.  Admitting  the  fact 
that  the  juggler  performs  this  feat,  as  we  all 
should  do  if  we  were  to  see  him  do  it,  I  still 
insist  that  it  is  no  miracle  according  to  your 
definition,  for  it  isn't  contrary  to  law,  but  in  ac 
cordance  with  a  law  which  we  don't  know." 

"  Then  I  reckon  you'd  say  that  the  curin'  of 
a  deaf *man  was  not  ag'in'  law,  would  you?" 

"Most  assuredly,"  was  the  answer.  "Jesus 
Christ,  as  the  Son  of  the  God  who  made  all  law, 
was  not  likely  to  do  anything  that  would  show 
that  His  Father's  laws  didn't  'cover  every  possi 
ble  emergency.  I  can't  conceive  of  Christ  as 
doing  anything  that  was  not  strictly  in  accor 
dance  with  law." 

"  Healin'  the  palsied  by  a  touch,"  snapped 
Lije. 

"Yes,  even  that,"  was  the  quiet  response. 
"  And,  farmer,  I  believe  the  time  is  coming,  and 
is  not  far  distant,  when  a  whole  new  realm  of 
psychological  law  will  be  discovered,  just  as 


A   HOT  DISCUSSION.  85 

Columbus  discovered  America,  and  when  the 
miracles  of  Christ  will  be  repeated  on  the  earth. 
That  is  going  far,  I  admit,  and  many  will  not 
agree  with  me,  but  I  believe  it.  I  call  these  in 
cidents  of  New  Testament  history  miracles  sim 
ply  because  I  have  no  better  word  to  express 
my  idea  of  what  happened.  But  a  miracle  is 
merely  something  which  some  one  does  who 
knows  more  about  law  than  I  do.  Suppose  one 
of  our  grandfathers  should  come  down  here  for 
a  while,  and  see  you  stand  at  one  end  of  a  wire, 
and  be  told  that  you  were  talking  to  a  man  in 
Chicago,  and  should  hear  his  voice  in  answer  to 
your  question.  He  would  call  that  a  miracle, 
and  to  him  it  would  be  one.  But  to  us  who 
have  studied  the  problems  of  electricity,  and 
know  what  it  can  do,  it  would  be  no  miracle 
at  all,  only  a  commonplace,  every-day  affair. 
When  we  know  more,  my  friends,  we  shall 
be  able  to  do  more.  The  age  of  miracles  is 
never  over,  for  everybody  lives  in  it.  What 
were  miracles  yesterday  are  not  miracles  to-day, 


86  THE  FARMER  AND    THE  LORD. 

and  what  are  miracles  to-day  will  not  be  so  the 
day  after  to-morrow." 

There  was  silence  for  a  time  in  that  little 
household.  The  mother  and  daughter  were 
serenely  happy,  but  I  think  that  Sam  and  his 
father  were  not  equally  pleased. 

"  I  have  had  a  charming  time,"  said  Jessig,  as 
he  rose  to  go.  "  I  don't  know  when  I  have  had 
so  delightful  an  evening.  And,  farmer,  you 
will  pardon  me  if  I  have  seemed  to  be  over- 
earnest.  I  hope  I  have  given  you  no  offense. 
What  we  are  all  after  is  the  truth,  and  I  want 
to  say  that  I  have  been  instructed  by  our  long 
chat.  Come  and  see  us,  all  of  you.  The  latch- 
string  is  always  out." 

Ten  minutes  later  Jessig  drove  out  into  the 
summer  night  with  very  agreeable  memories  of 
this  little  family  circle. 


V. 

THE  FARMER  IS  ANGRY. 

How  sensitive  love  is  to  the  loved  one's 
moods!  A  young  Hungarian,  who  is  a  fine 
musician,  used  to  visit  me  during  the  long  win 
ter  evenings,  and  he  always  brought  his  violin 
with  him.  He  couldn't  have  left  the  instrument 
at  home  any  more  than  he  could  have  left  his 
heart  there.  When  he  went  for  a  stroll  in  the 
country,  even,  he  carried  the  violin  with  him, 
because  it  was  part  of  himself.  It  was  his  in 
timate  companion  and  friend,  and  he  was  on 
the  most  confidential  terms  with  it.  Instead  of 
talking  to  himself,  as  many  people  do,  he  played. 
Indeed,  he  could  express  himself  by  music  bet 
ter  than  in  any  other  way.  Words  were  poor 
vehicles  for  his  thought,  but  when  he  had  the 
bow  in  his  hand  and  the  violin  under  his  chin, 
87 


88  THE   FARMER  AND    THE  LORD. 

he  could  converse  in  a  way  that  I  entirely 
understood.  His  frame  of  mind  showed  itself 
by  musical  tones,  and  the  moment  he  touched 
the  strings  I  caught  his  mood. 

Sometimes  he  was  hilarious,  and  then  the 
notes  would  trip  through  the  air  like  so  many 
fairies  having  a  wild  dance.  There  was  laugh 
ter  in  every  vibration,  and  I  could  see  that  his 
soul  was  bubbling  over  with  merriment.  At 
other  times  he  was  in  a  fit  of  the  blues,  and  not 
even  the  bright  skies  and  the  flowers  and  the 
twittering  of  the  birds  could  make  him  feel  that 
life  was  worth  anything.  Then  how  different 
the  strains  he  called  forth!-  The  notes  seemed 
to  be  full  of  anguish  and  doubt  and  timidity  and 
fear.  They  trembled,  just  as  he  was  trembling 
in  his  mind  and  heart,  and  if  he  had  talked  for 
an  hour  he  could  not  have  made  his  mood  more 
plain  to  me. 

There  are  a  thousand  ways  in  which  we  ex 
press  ourselves,  and  I  often  think  that  words  are 
the  poorest  of  them  all.  Especially  is  this  true 


THE  FARMER  IS  ANGRY.  89 

of  people  who  have  lived  long  together,  and 
whose  love  has  remained  pure  and  fresh.  They 
find  a  significance  in  a  footfall,  in  a  posture,  in 
a  glance,  or  in  a  gesture.  A  woman  may  com 
municate  a  great  many  things  by  the  way  she 
walks  across  the  room,  for  a  joyous  walk  is  very 
different  from  a  sad  walk,  and  the  step  of  a 
person  who  is  pondering  is  not  the  step  of  a 
person  who  has  nothing  disturbing  on  her 
mind. 

Love  can  tell  by  the  inflection  of  the  voice 
that  the  lover  is  not  at  ease  with  himself,  and 
the  wife  does  not  know  what  love  means  who 
needs  to  have  her  husband  say  that  things  are 
going  right  or  wrong.  She  knows  by  his  tread 
on  the  gravel  walk  long  before  he  reaches  the 
house,  and  by  the  quality  of  his  voice,  even 
when  he  makes  an  effort  to  conceal  his  thoughts. 
Nothing  can  be  hidden  from  an  intuitive  nature, 
especially  if  one  has  lived  with  a  person  many 
years  and  knows  exactly  how  he  is  accustomed 
to  do  things. 


9O  THE  FARMER  AND    THE  LORD. 

So  Lije  knew  that  Samanthy  was  unhappy. 
As  he  sat  in  the  kitchen  that  chill  November 
morning  he  watched  the  good  woman.  He 
couldn't  have  told  you  why  he  thought  she  was 
troubled,  but  it  was  perfectly  evident  that  she 
was.  There  was  a  difference  in  the  way  in 
which  she  lifted  the  lid  of  the  stove  to  put  a 
fresh  bit  of  wood  on  the  fire,  and  in  which  she 
opened  the  oven  door  to  see  if  the  bread  was 
baking  all  right. 

He  puffed  away,  but  for  a  while  said  nothing. 
For  that  matter,  he  didn't  wish  to  say  anything, 
because  when  a  man  and  wife  have  mutually 
discovered  something  disagreeable  they  are  apt 
to  conceal  it  from  each  other  as  long  as  possible. 
Lije  suspected  that  Samanthy  knew  just  what 
he  knew,  but  he  hesitated  to  talk  about  it,  and 
felt  even  timid,  for  he  dreaded  the  effect.  At 
last,  however,  unconsciously  Samanthy  heaved 
a  sigh,  and  going  to  the  window,  stood  there 
buried  in  her  thoughts. 

Lije  watched  her  for  a  minute  or  two,  and 


THE  FARMER  IS  ANGRY.  91 

then  determined  to  make  a  clean  breast  of  the 
whole  thing. 

"Samanthy!"  he  said. 

"  Yes,  Lije,  what  is  it?  "  but  she  didn't  turn 
her  face  toward  him.  She  still  looked  out  of  the 
window,  but  saw  nothing  except  what  was  in  her 
own  heart. 

"What's  the  matter,  mother?"  He  always 
called  her  "  mother  "  in  their  tenderest  moments. 

"Oh,  nothing  Lije;  just  nothin'  at  all." 

"Yes,  mother,  somethin's  botherin'  you." 

"  I  didn't  sleep  well  last  night,  Lije,  an'  I 
never  could  stand  a  broken  night.  I  don't  see 
how  it  is,  but  when  I  can't  sleep  I  get  restless 
the  next  day.  That's  all  ails  me,  I  reckon." 

"No,  Samanthy,  you  don't  use  me  fair," 
persisted  Lije.  "  There's  somethin'  partic'lar 
weighin'  on  your  mind,  an'  I  know  it." 

"  O  Lije,  you're  always  gettin'  up  a  scare 
about  me,  an'  " — rather  petulantly — "  I  wish 
you  wouldn't.  There!  just  go  out  an'  split 
some  wood,  an'  I'll  'tend  to  my  oven,  or  that 


92  THE  FARMER  AND    THE   LORD. 

bread'll  be  burned  to  a  crisp,"  and  she  made  a 
sudden  dash  for  the  stove. 

"  I  say,  mother,  you  can  get  along  without 
wood  for  the  next  half-hour,  an'  I  don't  care  a 
button  if  that  loaf  of  bread  is  burned  to  a  cinder. 
I've  got  somethin'  to  say  to  you  an'  you've  got 
somethin'  to  say  to  me,  an'  we  may  as  well  say 
it  an'  have  it  over." 

Samanthy  drew  herself  up  and  stood  face  to 
face  with  her  husband,  a  wild,  imploring  look  in 
her  eyes. 

"  Mother,  tell  me!"  and  Lije  laid  his  pipe  on 
the  table.  The  crisis  had  come,  and  could  no 
longer  be  postponed. 

"  What  shall  I  tell  you,  Lije?  " 

"  Is  it  about — "  then  a  short  pause,  and  with 
a  slight  tremble  in  his  voice  he  repeated  himself, 
"  is  it  about  Sam?  " 

The  dear  woman  couldn't  say  Yes.  She 
merely  bowed  her  head  and  looked  the  picture 
of  despair  for  an  instant ;  then,  burying  her  face 
in  her  hands,  burst  into  a  flood  of  tears. 


THE  FARMER  IS  ANGRY.  93 

"So  I  thought!  So  I  thought!"  and  Lije 
suddenly  became  rigid  and  stern. 

"  I  don't  know  what  we  can  do,  Lije.  Mary 
an'  I  have  prayed  for  him  over  an'  over  again, 
but  it  don't  seem  to  do  any  good.  He's  goin' 
wrong,  an'  it  appears  like  as  though  nothin' 
would  stop  him." 

"There  isn't  a  doubt  that  he's  goin'  wrong," 
said  Lije  bitterly,  "  an'  I  reckon  you  must  do 
somethin'  better  than  prayin'  for  him.  That's 
all  folderol." 

"  He's  got  in  with  those  city  boys,"  moaned 
Samanthy,  "  an'  last  night  when  he  come  home 
he  was — "  no,  she  couldn't  utter  that  word,  but 
she  sobbed  as  though  her  heart  would  break. 

"  Was  you  awake,  mother,  when  Sam  came 
home?" 

"  Yes,  Lije,  an'  it  was  pretty  near  midnight." 

"  I  heard  him,"  said  Lije  quietly  and  sadly. 

"Were  you  awake  too,  father?" 

"Yes,  it  happened  so;"  and  Lije  shook  his 
head. 


94  THE  FARMER  AND    THE  LORD. 

It  happened  so!  How  unwilling  a  man  is 
to  show  any  deep  emotion!  The  truth  is,  Lije 
hadn't  slept  half  an  hour  all  night.  He  was 
made  of  steel  in  every  other  part,  but  he  had  a 
heart  of  flesh.  There  had  been  rumors  for  a 
month  that  Sam  had  got  into  bad  company. 
The  farmer  discredited  them  for  a  while,  but  it 
very  soon  became  evident  that  there  was  some 
truth  in  them.  Sam  had  neglected  his  work, 
and  found  an  excuse  nearly  every  evening  to 
go  to  the  village.  His  whole  bearing  had 
changed. 

It  is  curious  that  the  world  is  so  made  that 
coasting  downhill  is  frightfully  easy,  and  drag 
ging  the  sled  uphill  is  frightfully  hard ;  but  we 
must  face  facts.  Sam  was  coasting  downhill  at 
a  terrible  rate,  but  the  father  at  first  thought 
it  was  only  a  youthful  spasm  and  would  soon 
wear  off.  At  last,  however,  affairs  assumed  a 
very  serious  aspect.  Sam  began  to  throw  out 
hints  that  farm  drudgery  didn't  suit  his  tastes, 
and  talked  pretty  freely  of  going  to  the  city  and 


THE  FARMER  IS  ANGRY.  95 

starting  some  business  wherein  he  could  make 
more  money.  The  old  man  grew  anxious,  but 
until  now  had  kept  his  anxiety  to  himself. 

"  Wall,"  he  said,  in  a  defiant  way,  "  we've  got 
to  meet  things  when  they  come,  an'  now  this 
has  come." 

Just  then  Mary  entered.  At  a  glance  she 
saw  that  Sam  was  the  subject  of  discussion,  but 
went  over  to  the  cupboard  and  pretended  to  be 
very  busy  with  the  dishes. 

"  I  can  tell  you  one  thing,"  said  Lije,  and  the 
lines  about  his  mouth  grew  hard. 

"What's  that,  Lije?" 

"  I  don't  propose  to  have  my  home  broken 
up  by  anythin'  of  this  kind,  that's  what." 

"But  what  can  we  do,  father?"  And  I 
think  if  you  had  seen  the  mother's  face  at  that 
moment  it  would  have  broken  your  heart. 

"Do?  I'll  tell  you  what  I'm  goin'  to  do. 
Neither  Sam  nor  any  one  else  shall  spile  your 
life,  Samanthy.  You  come  first,  I  guess,  an' 
Sam  comes  next.  If  he  wants  to  go  to  the  city, 


96  THE  FARMER  AND    THE  LORD. 

then  to  the  city  he  shall  go.  An'  if  he  wants 
to  go  to  the  devil  it  isn't  none  of  my  busi 
ness." 

"  Father!"  And  Mary,  as  white  as  a  snow 
bank,  stood  face  to  face  with  the  old  man. 
"  You  don't  mean  anything  of  the  kind,  and  you 
know  it." 

"  I'll  soon  show  you  what  I  mean,"  he  an 
swered,  and  his  voice  was  like  the  ring  of  chilled 
steel.  "  I've  brought  that  boy  up  the  best  I 
know  how.  When  you  an'  me  are  gone, 
Samanthy,  the  farm  will  go  to  him  an'  Mary, 
an'  there'll  be  land  enough  for  both  of  'em. 
He  can  step  right  into  my  shoes  an'  run  the 
concern  as  I  have  run  it.  If  he  don't  want  to 
do  that,  an'  has  got  a  lot  of  newfangled  notions 
about  the  city,  he  won't  be  no  good  here. 
Farmin'  amounts  to  nothin'  when  a  man  don't 
like  to  farm  it.  I'll  give  him  enough  to  start 
him  in  business,  if  that's  what  he's  after,  an' 
then  he  must  shift  for  himself.  But  as  for  havin' 
him  round  here,  spilin'  the  peace  of  my  family, 


THE  FARMER   IS  ANGRY.  97 

I  won't  do  it.  He's  got  to  go,  whether  he  likes 
it  or  not." 

"  You  wouldn't  throw  poor  Sam  out  in  the 
world  as  he  is  now,  father?"  And  Samanthy 
went  over  to  where  the  old  man  was  sitting. 
She  trembled  in  every  limb,  and  there  was  hor 
ror  in  every  line  of  her  face.  "  You  couldn't  do 
it;  no,  no,  you  couldn't  do  it." 

"  You'll  see  whether  I  can  or  not,"  he  replied. 
"  This  household  is  goin'  to  be  kept  just  as  it 
is;  an'  if  Sam  isn't  satisfied,  he  must  pack  up 
his  belongin's  an'  go  somewhere  else." 

"  But  what  would  become  of  him  in  the  city, 
father?  "  cried  Mary.  "  He  doesn't  know  any 
thing  about  city  ways,  and  with  his  present 
habits  he  would  surely  be  lost." 

"  That's  his  affair,"  and  Lije  looked  for  the 
moment  like  a  tyrant. 

"Look  here,  father."  Mary  took  a  seat  in 
front  of  Lije,  and  rested  her  arm  on  the  table. 
She  dared  to  say  anything  to  the  old  man,  for 
she  had  inherited  his  courage,  and  now  she  de- 


98  THE  FARMER  AND    THE   LORD. 

termined  to  meet  the  emergency,  to  brave  the 
tempest,  and  to  stand  up  for  the  poor  boy.  He 
should  not  leave  that  house,  where  there  were 
protecting  influences,  and  be  thrown  upon  the 
tender  mercies  of  strangers  in  a  city  full  of 
temptation,  if  she  could  help  it. 

"  Look  here,  father,"  she  repeated.  "  Sam  is 
not  only  your  son,  but  my  brother.  It  would 
just  kill  mother  to  have  him  sent  away,  and  it 
shall  not  be  done.  You  are  not  in  your  right 
mind.  A  person  can  be  drunk  on  anger  as 
well  as  on  liquor,  and  you  are  so  angry  that  you 
don't  know  what  you  are  saying." 

The  mother  put  her  face  in  her  apron,  and 
cried,  "  Lije,  father,  don't  say  such  things. 
He'll  get  over  it  after  a  while.  If  you  use  him 
rough  that  will  be  the  end  of  him,  for  he's  just 
like  you,  an'  won't  stand  it.  Leave  him  to 
Mary  an'  me.  We  can  bring  him  round,  an' 
he'll  be  just  as  good  as  ever." 

"  Let  me  tell  you,  father,"  broke  in  Mary, 


THE  FARMER  IS  ANGRY.  99 

"  just  how  this  thing  began,  and  then  you  will 
understand  it  better." 

"  I  don't  want  to  know  how  it  begun ;  it's 
enough  to  know  how  it  is  now,  an'  I  won't 
stand  it.  Do  you  s'pose  I'm  goin'  to  see  that 
woman  cryin'  herself  to  death  because  this  boy 
must  have  whisky  ?  Isn't  she  as  much  to  me  as 
he  is,  I'd  like  to  know?  An'  isn't  it  my  duty 
to  look  after  her  first  of  all?  " 

"  But  you  won't  look  after  her,  father,  by 
driving  Sam  away,"  and  Mary  was  by  this  time 
calm  and  cold  as  an  icicle.  She  had  herself 
well  in  hand,  and  every  word  was  made  to  tell 
like  the  impact  of  a  bullet.  "  On  the  contrary, 
you  will  kill  both  mother  and  me  if  you  pursue 
this  course.  It  is  bad  enough  to  have  Sam 
give  way  to  bad  habits  at  home,  where  we  can 
look  after  him,  but  how  much  worse  it  would 
be  to  have  him  in  the  city,  where  he  might  get 
sick,  with  no  place  to  go  to  but  the  hospital ! 
Sam  is  a  good  boy,  and  he  has  noble  qualities. 


100  THE  FARMER  AND    THE   LORD. 

It  is  on  account  of  those  very  qualities  that  he 
has  fallen." 

"  That  is  simply  ridic'lous,"  sneered  Lije. 
"  How  can  a  man  drink  because  he's  a  good 
fellow,  an'  disgrace  himself  an'  his  family  be 
cause  he's  a  good  fellow  ?  I  guess  you  bor 
rowed  that  nonsense  from  Parson  Jessig." 

"  Sometime  in  September,"  continued  Mary, 
"  two  young  men  with  plenty  of  money  came  to 
the  village,  and  put  up  at  the  hotel.  They 
were  here,  they  said,  for  the  shooting  season, 
and  you  know  the  woods  back  of  us  are  famous 
for  partridges.  Well,  they  were  out  with  their 
team  one  day  over  there  by  the  sawmill.  I 
don't  know  how  it  happened,  but  the  horses 
took  fright  and  ran.  They  were  dashing  along 
the  road  at  breakneck  speed,  and  right  ahead, 
where  there  wasn't  room  for  two  teams  to  pass, 
was  John  Perkins  with  a  load  of  lumber.  There 
would  certainly  have  been  a  terrible  accident  if 
Sam  hadn't  been  there.  He  is  as  strong  as  a 
lion,  you  know,  and  he  can  run  like  a  deer. 


THE  FARMER  IS  ANGRY.  IOI 

He  saw  how  matters  stood,  and  saw  John  Per 
kins's  team — this  he  told  me  himself — and  knew 
that  it  would  be  sure  death  to  some  one  unless 
those  horses  were  headed  off.  Without  think 
ing  of  any  danger  to  himself,  he  made  a  dash, 
stumbled,  but  managed  to  catch  himself,  and 
got  hold  of  the  team  when  it  was  not  more  than 
ten  rods  from  the  lumber-wagon.  That  was 
what  occurred,  and  at  that  moment,  father,  we 
all  had  reason  to  be  proud  of  Sam,  for  there 
isn't  another  fellow  in  the  village  who  could 
have  done  what  he  did. 

"  Well,  of  course  the  men  who  were  saved 
were  grateful ;  and  well  they  might  have  been. 
But  their  gratitude  was  the  beginning  of  every 
thing  that  has  befallen.  If  Sam  had  been  a 
coward,  or  even  if  he  had  lamed  himself  when 
he  stumbled,  he  might  be  working  on  the  farm 
now,  with  no  thought  of  anything  else.  But 
simply  because  he  was  strong  and  brave  the 
temptation  came  in  his  way. 

"  Then  these  men  insisted  that  he  should  go 


n^tV  H, 

102  THE  FARMER   AND    THE   LORD. 

to  the  hotel  with  them,  and  he  did  so.  They 
overwhelmed  him  with  praise,  and  then  ordered 
a  bottle  of  champagne  to  celebrate  his  daring 
and  their  rescue.  Sam  had  no  scruples  about 
drinking,  and  as  the  taste  of  the  wine  was  plea 
sant  he  drank  too  much. 

"  After  that  they  invited  him  to  go  partridge- 
shooting  with  them,  and  of  course  he  neglected 
his  work  here.  He  was  fascinated  by  the 
strangers.  They  wore  such  good  clothes, 
owned  such  fine  guns,  seemed  to  have  more 
money  than  they  knew  what  to  do  with,  and 
talked  far  above  the  poor  boy  on  all  subjects. 
No  wonder  his  head  was  turned,  and  no  won 
der  that  milking  cows  and  doing  chores  grew 
irksome  to  him.  If  it  had  all  ended  there  noth 
ing  serious  might  have  happened.  But  it  didn't. 
They  were  fond  of  him,  and  wanted  to  make 
him  like  themselves.  So  they  very  soon  got 
away  from  the  light  wines  and  took  to  whisky. 
Champagne  was  simply  their  show  drink,  but 
whisky  was  what  they  liked ;  so  Sam  learned  to 


THE  FARMER  IS  ANGRY.  103 

drink  whisky.  Then  came  games  of  chance, 
and  soon  it  was  convenient  to  take  a  private 
room  over  the  saloon  at  the  corner,  and  there 
the  revels  were  held,  and  the  ruin  of  Sam  ac 
complished. 

"  That  is  the  whole  story,  father.  Sam  is 
under  a  glamour.  He  is  a  good  boy,  but  he  has 
been  hypnotized.  These  city  fellows  are  very 
much  the  same  to  him  that  the  fabled  genii  are 
to  the  child  who  reads  fairy  stories.  He  will 
come  to  himself  by  and  by,  but  it  will  never  do 
to  treat  him  harshly,  for  he  is  as  stubborn  as  an 
oak  knot,  and  you  will  only  make  him  worse." 

"To  think,"  cried  Lije,  "  that  a  son  of  mine 
should  fall  into  such  disgrace !  It's  too  much  to 
bear!" 

But  all  the  same  the  old  man  was  affected  by 
the  recital  of  Mary. 

"  Your  story  is  well  enough,  but  where  is  this 
thing  goin'  to  stop?"  he  asked.  "Are  we  to 
stand  it  right  along?  " 

"  We   are   going   to  do   all   we   can  to  save 


104  THE  FARMER  AND    THE  LORD. 

him,"  Mary  replied,  "and  then  leave  the  rest  in 
the  hands  of  the  Lord." 

"  Humph!  Things  have  got  to  a  pretty  bad 
pass  when  you  have  to  call  on  the  Lord  for 
help.  What  do  you  want  me  to  do  about  it — 
keep  still?  Perhaps  you'd  like  me  to  go  to 
work  prayin'  too.  A  good  deal  better  to  cut  a 
tough  birch  rod  for  him,  accordin'  to  my  way 
of  thinkin'." 

"  I  want  you  to  talk  to  him,  father — a  man 
will  have  more  influence  than  any  woman ;  but 
you  must  talk  kindly." 

"  I  guess  I'll  use  the  English  language  on 
him  in  a  way  he  won't  forget,"  retorted  Lije. 

"  Then  you'll  spoil  everything,  and  had  better 
leave  him  to  mother  and  me." 

"Yes,  an'  a  lot  you  could  do!" 

"  You  must  treat  him  as  you  would  a  sheep 
that  has  gone  astray  and  broken  its  leg." 

"Well,  I'd  just  kill  the  sheep,"  cried  Lije, 
"an'  make  mutton  of  him." 

But  the  family  talk  did  Lije  a  deal  of  good. 


THE  FARMER  IS  ANGRY.  105 

He  didn't  know  much  about  handling  such  an 
affair  with  gentleness,  but  it  dimly  dawned 
upon  him  that  Samanthy  and  Mary  had  the 
right  of  it. 

As  he  went  out  to  the  woodpile,  he  muttered 
to  himself,  "  There's  no  understandin'  women 
folks  anyway.  They'd  try  to  reform  the  devil 
if  they  had  a  chance.  Why,  when  I  come  across 
a  stump  in  my  wheat-field,  do  I  sit  down  an'  l 
say,  '  Mr.  Stump,  you  know  you  don't  belong 
here  anyway,  so  please  pick  yourself  up  an' 
get  over  the  fence  '  ?  Or  do  I  call  on  the  Lord 
to  pick  that  stump  up  an'  carry  it  away? 
Well,  I  guess  not.  I  just  drill  a  hole  in  it,  an' 
put  a  lot  of  gunpowder  there,  and  blow  the 
'tarnal  thing  to  smithereens.  But  there,  they 
are  goin'  to  try  the  religious  dodge  on  Sam, 
an'  he'll  be  wuss  off  than  ever  when  they  get 
through.  I  don't  believe  it ;  but  there  isn't  any 
good  in  resistin'  'em.  So  let  'em  go  ahead." 


VI. 

LIJE  FINDS  HIS  SON. 

FOR  a  couple  of  weeks  after  this  family  con 
ference  Lije  seemed  to  be  extremely  restless. 
He  was  anxious  about  Sam,  for,  so  far  from  any 
improvement,  the  poor  boy  was  evidently  going 
from  bad  to  worse.  The  father  had  remonstrated 
with  him  two  or  three  times,  but  he  listened  sul 
lenly  and  without  answering  a  word,  then  started 
for  the  village.  The  mother  had  pleaded  with 
him,  but  he  rebuffed  her  bruskly ;  and  when 
Mary  one  morning  tried  to  tell  him  how  mat 
ters  stood  at  home,  he  brushed  her  aside  with 
an  insulting  remark  about  girls  who  meddle 
with  other  people's  affairs,  and  left  the  house. 

The  family  were  driven  fairly  frantic  by  the 
terrible  calamity  that  had  come  upon  them. 
And  why  not?  There  is  something  a  thousand 
1 06 


LIJE  FINDS  HIS  SON.  1 07 

times  worse  than  death — something  in  compari 
son  with  which  death  seems  to  be  a  trivial  inci 
dent.  What  could  happen  to  a  mother,  a  ten 
der-hearted,  conscientious,  prayerful  mother  like 
Samanthy,  worse  than  to  see  her  only  son,  the 
pride  of  her  middle  life  and  the  hope  of  her  old 
age,  rushing  down  the  steep  of  dissipation,  know 
ing  all  the  while  that  he  is  endowed  with  splen 
did  qualities,  and  be  powerless  to  stay  his 
progress  ? 

As  for  Lije,  I  think  those  awful  days  made 
him  older  by  ten  years.  There  was  a  sudden 
stoop  to  his  shoulders ;  he  went  about  his  work 
in  a  dazed  sort  of  way  ;  and  if  you  spoke  to  him 
he  would  look  you  blankly  in  the  face  as  though 
he  had  not  been  listening  to  what  you  said. 
There  was  also  a  certain  drag  in  his  walk,  a  list- 
lessness  of  manner,  and  a  far-away  expression 
in  his  eyes. 

Many  a  time  the  meal  hour  passed  without  a 
word,  as  though  some  magician  had  struck  them 
all  dumb.  They  ate  little  and  slept  little,  and 


108          THE  FARMER  AND    THE   LORD. 

were  under  constant  apprehension.  At  any  un 
usual  noise  the  old  man  would  start,  the  good- 
wife  would  turn  pale,  and  Mary's  eyes  would 
brim  with  tears. 

No  one  knows  the  weight  of  a  sorrow  like  that 
until  he  is  called  upon  to  bear  it,  and  then  he 
thinks  of  that  passage  of  Scripture,  "  Like  as  a 
father  pitieth  his  children,  so  the  Lord  pitieth 
them  that  fear  Him."  The  women  found  some 
slight  consolation  in  their  religion ;  but  as  for 
Lije,  well,  "  If  the  light  that  is  in  thee  be  dark 
ness,  how  great  is  that  darkness!"  It  was  un 
mitigated  and  hopeless  gloom  which  surrounded 
him.  Like  the  old  Greeks,  he  believed  in  fate 
and  nothing  else,  and  so  set  his  teeth  together 
to  bear  misfortune  with  a  stout  or  a  defiant 
heart ;  but  a  stout  heart  under  such  circum 
stances  is  a  poor  crutch  to  lean  upon,  and  defi 
ance  is  only  another  name  for  added  misery. 

One  night  they  were  all  sitting  about  the 
kitchen  fire,  Samanthy  trying  to  knit,  but  losing 
a  stitch  every  now  and  then,  Mary  pretending  to 


LIJE  FINDS  HIS  SON.  IOQ 

read,  but  constantly  losing  her  place,  while  Lije  let 
his  pipe  go  out.  The  clock  with  a  sharp  twang 
struck  ten.  Lije  went  to  the  door  "  to  look  out 
into  the  night,"  he  said,  but  in  reality  to  look 
down  the  road  to  see  if  Sam  were  coming. 

"  Father,"  said  Samanthy  timidly,  "  do  you 
know  what  time  it  is  ?  " 

There  was  no  answer.  Perhaps  the  old  man 
didn't  hear  her. 

"  It's  long  after  ten,"  she  continued. 

"Yes,  I  know  it,  mother." 

"  Hadn't  we  better  go  to  bed,  Lije?" 

He  stood  there  for  a  minute  as  though  mak 
ing  up  his  mind.  Then  he  said,  with  unusual 
tenderness,  "  Mother,  you  an'  Mary  had  better 
say  good-night.  There  ain't  any  use  in  wear- 
in'  yourselves  out." 

Then  he  came  back  into  the  room,  and  began 
to  put  on  his  coat. 

"  What's  the  matter,  father?  "  and  Mary  went 
up  to  him,  and,  putting  her  arms  round  his  neck, 
kissed  him. 


HO          THE  FARMER  AND    THE  LORD. 

"  I  guess  there  ain't  nothin'  the  matter,"  he 
answered,  but  his  voice  was  broken.  The  dear 
old  fellow  was  for  a  moment  like  an  oak-tree  in 
a  tempest.  He  could  stand  opposition  and  not 
move  a  muscle;  he  had  had  it  all  his  days,  and 
it  did  not  affect  him  in  the  least.  But  when  the 
girl  put  her  arms  round  his  neck,  father  and 
daughter  understood  each  other,  and  he  came 
near  breaking  down.  It  was  a  pathetic  picture, 
but  there  are  many  such  in  our  strange  human 
lives. 

"What  are  you  puttin'  on  your  coat  for?" 
asked  Samanthy,  in  alarm. 

"  Sam  hasn't  come  home,  has  he?  "  said  Lije 
desperately. 

There  was  silence. 

"An'  you  don't  know  where  he  is,  do  you? 
or  what  he  is  doin'  ?  " 

Again  silence. 

"Well  then,  I'm  goin'  to  tackle  up  the  horse 
an'  drive  down  to  the  village  an'  find  out." 

"  But,  father!"  they  both  cried  at  once. 


LIJE  FINDS  HIS   SON.  \  \  \ 

"  Don't  say  nothin'  " — and  there  was  a  harsh 
determination  in  his  tones — "  'cos  it  won't  do  no 
good.  I've  stood  this  sort  of  thing  till  I  can't 
stand  it  any  longer.  You  two  folks  are  wearin' 
your  lives  out,  an'  I'm  goin'  to  put  an  end  to  it 
one  way  or  another.  You  just  keep  quiet,  an' 
in  an  hour  or  so  I'll  bring  Sam  home  if  I  can 
find  him." 

He  was  gone.  They  could  hear  his  heavy 
footfalls  on  the  gravel  as  he  strode  to  the  barn, 
and  in  less  than  ten  minutes  he  drove  out  of  the 
gate.  They  watched  him,  for  he  had  a  lantern 
in  the  wagon,  and  his  last  words  were,  "  Don't 
worry  till  I  come  back,  folks ;  I'll  bring  Sam  for 
sure." 

They  listened  with  strained  ears  until  they 
heard  the  rumble  of  the  wheels  as  Lije  drove 
over  the  bridge  at  the  foot  of  the  hill,  and  then 
went  back  into  the  lonely  and  desolate  house. 

Lonely  and  desolate  indeed !  And  if  mother 
and  daughter  fell  into  each  other's  arms,  tear 
fully  praying  that  the  dear  Lord  would  be  with 


112  THE  FARMER  AND    THE   LORD. 

the  boy  as  He  was  with  the  prodigal  of  other 
days,  and  turn  his  mind  from  the  husks  which 
he  was  eating  to  the  old  home  once  more,  need 
we  think  it  strange?  And  as  we  contemplate 
that  spectacle,  the  father  driving  with  a  heavy 
heart  toward  the  village,  the  women  weeping 
and  watching  in  the  farm-house,  the  destiny  of 
a  boy  hanging  in  the  balance,  do  we  not  send 
our  prayers  also  on  a  mission  to  heaven  in  com 
pany  with  theirs? 

For  myself,  I  feel  assured  that  a  band  of  soli 
citous  and  helpful  angels  were  about  the  old 
man,  though  he  was  unconscious  of  their  pres 
ence  and  would  have  laughed  the  statement  to 
scorn.  The  angels,  however,  do  not  desert  one 
because  he  cannot  believe  in  their  existence, 
and  in  that  calm  night  Lije's  mission  was  looked 
upon  with  curious  interest  in  the  other  world, 
and  many  a  helping  hand  was  extended  which 
he  could  not  see. 

If  our  religion  is  anything  more  than  a  myth 
these  things  are  true,  and  if  there  is  any  heaven 


LIJE   FINDS  HIS  SON.  I  I  3 

at  all  the  loved  ones  who  live  there  neither  for 
get  us  nor  are  neglectful. 

The  boundary  line  between  the  two  worlds  is 
merely  imaginary.  We  may  not  cross  it  to  visit 
the  dear  ones,  or,  rather,  we  do  not  yet  know 
whether  we  can  or  not,  and  therefore  never  do 
it,  but  they  certainly  can  cross  it  to  come  to  us. 
They  came  to  Christ,  as  is  recorded,  in  many 
instances,  and  I  sometimes  wonder  if  even  His 
spirit,  bowed  down  as  it  was  with  grief  at  times, 
could  have  borne  so  heavy  a  burden  if  they  had 
not  "  ministered  unto  Him."  The  word  "  min 
istered  "  implies  need  of  help  on  His  part,  and 
the  help  was  sent.  May  it  not  be  the  same  with 
us?  Nay,  must  it  not  be  the  same? 

But  Lije  couldn't  see  them,  and  did  not  know 
that  they  were  there.  So  he  drove  on  in  a  very 
desperate  frame  of  mind,  wondering  what  the 
next  hour  would  bring  forth ;  he  determined, 
though,  to  treat  his  son  tenderly,  but  had  made 
up  his  mind  at  the  same  time  to  take  him  home 
with  him  at  any  hazard. 


114  THE  FARMER   AND    THE   LORD. 

First  of  all,  he  drove  to  the  hotel.  No  one 
was  there  except  the  night-clerk,  and  he  was 
busy  adding  up  a  long  column  of  figures.  After 
a  little  he  said,  without  looking  up,  and  suppos 
ing  the  comer  was  a  belated  guest,  "  You'll  find 
a  candle  at  the  farther  end  of  the  hall;  good 
night!"  Then,  as  the  supposed  guest  did  not 
move,  he  looked  up,  and,  recognizing  Lije,  ex 
claimed,  "  Hullo,  Mr.  Tomkins!  I  thought  it  was 
some  one  else.  Aren't  you  out  late?  What's 
the  matter?  Anybody  sick  ?  Can  I  do  anything 
for  you?  " 

Lije  didn't  know  how  to  say  what  he  wanted 
to  say.  If  he  asked  directly  for  information 
concerning  Sam  there  would  be  an  implication 
of  something  having  gone  wrong  with  the  boy, 
and  he  wouldn't  admit  that  to  a  stranger  for 
worlds.  So  he  replied  : 

"  No,  nothin'  the  matter,  I  guess.  Family  as 
well  as  usual.  Don't  need  any  doctors  up  our 
way.  I  was  just  drivin'  home,  an'  thought  I'd 


LIJE  FINDS  HIS  SON.  \  \  5 

call  an'  save  Sam  a  long  walk,  that's  all.  I 
rather  guessed  he'd  be  here." 

The  clerk  thought  a  minute.  It  made  no  dif 
ference  to  him  where  Sam  was  or  what  might  be 
come  of  him.  He  was  simply  clerk  in  a  hotel, 
and  everything  outside  the  hotel  might  take  care 
of  itself. 

"  No,  Mr.  Tomkins,  I  haven't  seen  Sam  to 
night.  Don't  believe  he's  upstairs  with  the 
other  fellows,  for  I  haven't  heard  any  racket. 
You'd  better  try  down  to  Bob's  ;  he's  most  likely 
there." 

So  Lije  turned  and  went  out  without  even 
saying  "Thank  you."  "Bob's!"  he  exclaimed. 
"  That's  a  queer  place  for  my  son  Sam,  for  sure. 
Why,  Bob  keeps  a  liquor-hole,  the  wust  place 
in  town,  an'  I  reckon  a  good  many  of  the  mill 
hands  have  started  downhill  from  his  bar.  An' 
they  do  say  that  gamblin'  is  goin'  on  there  every 
night.  An'  my  son  Sam  is  there?  Don't  be 
lieve  it  could  be  much  wuss  than  that." 


Il6          THE  FARMER  AND    THE  LORD. 

How  still  and  quiet  the  village  was  !  It  was 
close  upon  midnight,  and  nearly  every  light  was 
out.  The  villagers  lived  up  to  the  old  rule  about 
early  to  bed  and  early  to  rise,  and  by  ten  o'clock 
generally  were  between  the  sheets;  but  there 
was  one  house  that  had  not  closed — "Bob's." 
Thitherward  Lije  wended  his  way.  It  was  just 
round  the  corner,  not  forty  rods  from  the  hotel, 
and  when  Lije  came  in  sight  of  it  he  heard  up 
roarious  laughter  coming  from  the  upper  rooms, 
and  his  heart  sank.  As  he  stood  for  a  moment 
after  tying  the  horse,  he  muttered  to  himself, 
"  I've  never  believed  in  any  hell,  but  'pears  to  me 
I'm  pretty  close  to  one  now,  an'  " — he  clenched 
his  fists — "  if  Sam  is  there  I'll  fetch  him  out." 

He  opened  the  door  of  the  saloon  and  stepped 
boldly  in.  It  was  the  first  time  he  had  ever 
been  in  such  a  place,  for  he  was  very  strict  in 
his  habits  and  had  lived  an  entirely  temperate 
life.  The  barkeeper  knew  him  because  it  was 
his  business  to  know  everybody,  but,  suspecting 
that  something  had  gone  wrong,  did  not  give 


LIJE  FINDS  HIS  SON.  117 

him  a  very  cordial  welcome.  There  were  half 
a  dozen  men  of  the  baser  sort  seated  round  the 
stove,  most  of  them  in  a  maudlin  state. 

''Well,  farmer,"  said  Bob,  as  soon  as  he  re 
covered  from  his  surprise,  "  what  can  I  do  for 
you  ?  You  won't  have  a  glass  of  warm  whisky, 
eh?  I  can  make  you  a  punch  that  will  drink 
itself ;  what  do  you  say  ?  " 

Lije  paid  no  attention  to  the  offer,  but  said 
quietly,  "  I  was  to  meet  Sam  an'  take  him  home. 
He  isn't  here?  " 

"  Well,  farmer,  if  you  and  he  have  any  agree 
ment  between  you,  I  guess  you'll  find  him  up 
stairs.  From  the  noise  I  judge  the  meeting 
hasn't  broke  up  yet.  Just  take  the  door  to  the 
right,  and  after  that  you'll  find  your  own  way." 

Lije  was  as  stern  as  a  shaft  of  granite ;  but 
there  was  a  volcano  inside  of  him  which  it  would 
have  been  dangerous  to  tamper  with.  One  of 
the  group  about  the  stove  attempted  to  make  a 
joke,  but  Lije  looked  at  him — merely  looked  at 
him,  and  said  nothing,  and  the  fellow  hushed  at 


Il8  THE  FARMER  AND    THE   LORD. 

once.  Then  he  strode  across  the  saloon,  opened 
the  door  indicated,  and  went  upstairs. 

There  was  a  sound  of  revelry  which  guided 
him.  Songs  of  rather  doubtful  character  were 
being  sung  in  chorus,  but  the  voices  were  thick 
and  husky.  The  door  was  ajar,  but  Lije  pushed 
it  wide  open  with  his  foot  and  walked  into  the 
room.  The  sight  was  appalling.  The  three 
young  men  were  seated  at  the  table,  on  which 
were  two  empty  whisky-bottles.  The  air  was 
redolent  of  mingled  liquor  and  tobacco  smoke, 
and  a  very  lively  game,  which  Lije  afterward 
learned  was  poker,  was  in  progress.  Sam's  back 
was  toward  the  door,  and  of  course  he  did  not 
see  his  father,  and,  moreover,  he  was  in  such  a 
befuddled  condition  that  he  didn't  even  hear  the 
intruding  footsteps. 

For  perhaps  a  minute  Lije  stood  there,  and 
so  absorbed  were  the  players  that  they  didn't 
notice  his  presence. 

"  Hullo!  there's  nothing  in  the  bottle,"  cried 
one.  "  No,  no,  you  won't  play  until  we  send 


LIJE  FINDS  HIS  SON.  119 

down  for  something  to  drink.  I've  got  a  power 
ful  thirst  on  me  to-night." 

"  Go  ahead  with  you,  Sam,"  cried  the  other; 
"  it's  your  lead,  and  I'm  going  to  get  your  pile 
before  you  go  home,  mind  that!" 

"  Sam  will  not  throw  a  card  down  till  I  get  my 
whisky,"  exclaimed  the  first  speaker.  "  Here, 
Jim,"  mistaking  Lije  for  the  barkeeper's  atten 
dant,  "  fetch  up  one  more,  and  charge  it  to  Sam. 
I  guess  he  can  afford  to  pay  for  it  to-night,  for 
he's  pretty  well  cleaned  us  both  out.  Why,"  and 
he  shook  the  bottle,  "  here's  enough  for  a  couple 
of  swallows.  I'll  toss  up  to  see  who  shall  have  it. " 

Just  then  he  looked  up  and  caught  sight  of 
Lije.  "Well,  old  man,"  he  sang  out,  "glad  to 
see  you.  Sit  right  down  and  take  a  hand. 
Where  did  you  come  from  anyhow,  and  who 
are  you  ?  Don't  know  you,  but  glad  to  see  you  ; 
take  a  drink,"  and  he  turned  the  whisky  into  a 
tumbler,  rose  unsteadily,  caught  Lije  by  the  arm 
with  the  familiarity  of  a  drunken  man,  and  tried 
to  put  the  liquor  to  his  lips. 


120  THE   FARMER  AND    THE  LORD. 

Lije  at  that  moment  resembled  my  idea  of  one 
of  the  prophets  of  Israel  when  a  storm  of  anger 
swept  over  him.  He  could  hardly  remember 
what  happened  when  he  spoke  to  me  of  this  in 
cident  a  year  afterward,  for,  as  he  said,  it  all  oc 
curred  so  quickly,  and  he  was  in  such  a  state  of 
fury,  that  there  wasn't  time  for  it  to  make  any 
impression  on  his  mind  except  after  the  manner 
of  a  dream.  But  there  are  certain  details  which 
I  have  reason  to  believe  are  true. 

When  the  man  offered  him  the  tumbler  Lije 
made  a  motion  which  was  intended  to  simply 
brush  the  fellow  aside ;  but  there  must  have  been 
more  energy  in  his  arm  than  he  knew  of,  for  the 
man  staggered  across  the  room  backward,  trying 
at  every  step  to  recover  himself,  and  then  fell  in 
a  heap  on  the  floor.  Angered  beyond  control 
at  his  repulse,  and  partly  sobered,  he  regained 
his  feet,  grasped  one  of  the  empty  bottles,  and 
made  a  vicious  blow  at  the  farmer's  head.  Lije 
was,  however,  too  quick  for  him.  The  bottle 
flew  out  of  the  fellow's  hands,  and,  hitting  the 


LIJE  FINDS  HIS  SON.  121 

stove,  was  smashed  into  a  thousand  pieces. 
Quick  as  thought,  Lije  grasped  him  by  the  col 
lar  with  one  hand  and  by  the  leg  with  the  other, 
and  literally  hurled  him  down  that  flight  of  stairs. 
Lije  declares  that  he  doesn't  recall  the  fact  very 
vividly,  but  admits  that  he  grappled  with  the 
man,  and  that  something  happened  immediately. 
The  man  himself,  however,  has  a  more  distinct 
recollection,  and  entertains  no  doubt  whatever 
as  to  the  way  in  which  he  was  treated. 

You  would  think  that  such  an  occurrence 
must  needs  occupy  some  little  time,  but  not 
more  than  three  minutes  elapsed  between  the 
ascent  of  Lije  to  the  room  and  the  man's  descent 
from  it. 

Sam  heard  the  tussle,  but  for  an  instant 
thought  nothing  of  it.  Then,  slowly  turning  to 
see  what  the  fuss  was  about,  he  caught  sight  of 
his  father,  whose  blazing  eyes  were  fixed  on  his 
boy's  face.  Sam's  soul  got  the  mastery  over  the 
liquor  he  had  swallowed,  temporarily  at  least, 
and,  springing  to  his  feet,  he  cried : 


122          THE  FARMER  AND    THE  LORD. 

"  My  God !  Father,  where  did  you  come 
from?" 

The  voice  was  full  of  anguish,  and  so  affected 
was  Lije  by  it  that  his  whole  mood  changed  ;  he 
lost  his  anger,  and  in  its  stead  was  a  profound 
pity  for  that  poor  lad  who  had  gone  so  far  astray. 

"  I  came  from  the  farm,  Sam,"  he  said,  in  quiet 
tones,  "  and  I  want  you  to  go  home  with  me." 

"  Can't  go  home  as  I  am  now,"  Sam  replied, 
as  the  liquor  once  more  asserted  itself;  "can't 
think  of  presenting  myself  in  this  condition  to 
the  women  folks.  Sleep  here  to-night,  and  I'll 
go  up  home  in  the  morning." 

Of  course  I  can't  give  his  exact  words,  for  they 
were  terribly  tangled  and  were  uttered  with  spas 
modic  effort,  but  that  is  what  he  tried  to  say. 

The  father,  however,  would  listen  to  nothing 
of  the  kind,  and  after  half  an  hour,  by  dint  of 
force  and  tenderness,  of  mingled  coaxing  and 
threats,  Sam  was  hoisted  into  the  wagon  and 
Lije  began  the  sad  journey  home. 

The  father  said  not  a  word  during  that  long 


LIJE   FINDS  HIS  SON.  123 

ride.  Sam  tried  once  or  twice  to  ask  a  question 
in  his  maudlin  way,  but  Lije  answered  nothing. 
If  you  could  have  seen  his  face,  stern  and  yet 
pitiful,  you  would  not  have  forgotten  it,  I  am 
sure.  At  last  Sam  saw  that  it  was  vain  to  try 
to  draw  the  farmer  out,  and  saying,  half  under 
his  breath,  "  Don't  seem  to  be  talking  much,  do 
you?"  he  also  relapsed  into  silence.  So  Lije, 
busy  with  some  of  the  most  terrible  thoughts 
that  ever  agonized  a  human  mind,  drove  on  in 
the  dark  night,  a  few  stars  shining  on  his  way 
and  the  clouds  scurrying  along  in  the  frosty  sky. 

As  Lije  helped  Sam  up  the  narrow  staircase 
to  his  bedroom  the  women  stood  together  in  the 
parlor  door,  pale,  tearful,  and  trembling.  It  was 
as  though  some  one  were  bearing  a  dead  body 
to  the  second  floor.  They  clung  to  each  other 
convulsively  for  mutual  support,  and  when  the 
last  footfalls  died  away  they  took  their  places 
on  the  sofa  to  wait  the  father's  return. 

It  was  a  full  half-hour  before  he  came  down. 
He  felt  the  situation  too  deeply  for  words,  and 


124  THE  FARMER  AND    THE  LORD. 

so  gave  no  account  of  what  had  occurred.  At 
length  Mary,  in  a  half-whisper,  said : 

"Father!" 

"  Well,  darter,  what  is  it  ?  " 

"  You  don't  believe  in  God,  dear,  but  after  all 
it's  possible  that  there  is  one." 

He  turned  his  face  toward  her  with  an  inquir 
ing  look. 

"  And  if  there  should  be  one,  as  mother  and 
I  believe  there  is,  He  knows  how  our  hearts  are 
breaking  about  Sam." 

Lije  remained  silent. 

"  And  it  would  do  no  harm,  father,  if  before 
we  go  to  bed  we  just  kneel  down  and  pray  to 
Him  to  help  us  bear  our  trouble  and  to  help 
Sam  to  become  a  man  again.  You  won't  say 
no,  father,  will  you?  " 

"  Do  what  you  please,"  he  answered  brokenly  ; 
"  it's  all  beyond  me.  I  don't  know  nothin'  about 
nothin'." 

And  in  that  little  best  room  Mary  and  her 
mother  knelt,  and,  be  it  confessed,  Lije  knelt  too, 


LIJE  FINDS  HIS  SON.  125 

and,  burying  his  hard  face  in  his  hard  hands,  gave 
forth  a  great  sob,  such  a  sob  as  only  despair  and 
utter  helplessness  can  furnish. 

Mary  prayed.  It  was  only  a  short  prayer,  but 
how  much  of  pleading  was  in  it !  She  spoke  to 
God  as  though  He  was  nigh  at  hand,  and  her 
simple  language  was  full  of  trust  and  confidence 
in  that  Power  which  can  accomplish  all  things. 

As  they  rose  the  old  man's  eyes  were  wet. 
The  reaction  had  come,  and  he  was  as  weak  as 
a  child. 

When  Mary  kissed  him  he  said  tremblingly, 
"  Darter,  you  are  an  angel  if  ever  there  was 
one.  Good-night,  dear  girl,  good-night.  Come, 
mother,  we  must  go  to  bed." 


VII. 

THE  NEXT  MORNING. 

THE  next  morning  the  farmer  was  up  at  the 
usual  time,  four  o'clock.  The  breakfast  hour 
was  six- thirty,  and  as  the  little  family  sat  down 
Sam's  vacant  chair  spoke  volumes.  Of  course 
there  had  been  very  little  sleep  on  the  part  of 
any  one  except  that  of  the  boy,  who  slept 
heavily  and  stertorously. 

After  breakfast  Lije  gave  the  three  hands 
their  stint  for  the  day.  He  didn't  want  them 
about  the  house  at  that  particular  juncture  of 
affairs,  and  so  sent  one  to  cut  wood  in  a  distant 
part  of  the  farm,  another  to  a  neighbor  who  was 
putting  up  a  barn,  and  the  third  with  the  ox- 
team  to  the  grist-mill  seven  miles  away. 

I  think  that  with  the  morning  the  old  hard 
126 


THE  NEXT  MORNING.  12  J 

• 

feeling  came  back  into  his  heart.  He  couldn't 
understand  how  a  boy  of  his  could  yield  to  such 
a  temptation.  Having  an  iron  will,  it  was  impos 
sible  for  him  to  appreciate  the  position  in  which 
Sam  found  himself.  Besides,  there  were  the 
mother  and  daughter.  How  they  were  suffer 
ing!  He  didn't  think  of  his  own  misery,  the 
agony  he  was  passing  through — we  must  give 
him  full  credit  for  that — but  the  women  folks, 
he  thought,  had  more  than  they  could  bear,  and 
he  was  almost  convinced  that  harsh  measures 
were  absolutely  necessary.  It  was  in  his  mind 
to  tell  Sam  plainly  that  he  must  either  stop  at 
once  and  go  back  to  his  farm  work  or  leave  the 
house  and  find  some  employment  elsewhere. 

My  own  feeling  is  that  the  ideal  man  is  half 
woman.  That  is  to  say,  he  must  have  a  sym 
pathetic  side  to  his  character  as  well  as  a  stern 
side.  But  Lije  had  only  the  latter.  He  had 
fought  his  way  in  the  world,  had  been  very  sav 
ing  all  his  days,  had  denied  himself  many  com 
forts  in  order  to  get  the  farm  free  from  debt  and 


128  THE  FARMER  AND    THE  LORD. 

• 

lay  up  a  moiety  for  his  old  age,  and  the  process, 
as  is  always  the  case,  eliminated  the  tender  feel 
ings  he  naturally  possessed,  and  made  him  cold 
and  unable  to  see  why  others  should  fail  where 
he  had  held  his  own. 

Moreover,  he  was  to  a  certain  extent  ostra 
cized  on  account  of  his  religious  opinions,  and 
that  made  him  at  times  terribly  bitter.  We 
haven't  reached  the  millennium  of  charity  yet, 
and  it  is  hard  to  feel  that  there  isn't  something- 
wrong  about  a  man  who  differs  radically  from 
us  in  his  opinions.  We  can't  quite  believe  that 
he  is  honest ;  at  any  rate,  there  is  an  impression 
that  there  is  moral  turpitude  connected  with  het 
erodoxy.  Lije  felt  this,  and,  although  his  neigh 
bors  were  neighborly  to  a  certain  extent,  there 
was  a  mysterious  something  in  their  bearing 
which  angered  him. 

So  he  couldn't  even  tell  himself  how  he  would 
treat  Sam  when  they  met.  He  would  face  the 
boy  with  his  disgrace  and  put  the  matter  plainly 
before  him  without  flinching,  but  his  course  after 


THE  NEXT  MORNING.  1 29 

that  would  depend  on  the  way  Sam  took  it  and 
what  he  proposed  to  do. 

It  was  nine  o'clock  before  the  boy  made  his 
appearance,  and  it  was  evident  that  he  was  con 
scious  of  his  guilt  and  felt  humiliated  by  it. 

"  Good-morning,  Sam,"  said  Mary,  as  he 
opened  the  kitchen  door ;  "  are  you  ready  for 
your  breakfast?  " 

"  Rather  late,  I  guess,"  he  answered,  in  a 
doleful  voice. 

"  That's  no  matter;  I  can  have  you  a  nice 
cup  of  coffee  in  two  minutes,  and  mother'll  fry 
the  buckwheats  in  two  minutes  more.  Sit  right 
down." 

But  it  was  terribly  hard  work  for  any  one  of 
the  three  to  be  cheerful. 

"  Don't  know  how  I  came  to  oversleep  my 
self.  Can't  remember  much  of  what  happened 
last  night,  but  I  must  have  been  in  a  pretty  bad 
condition,  I  reckon." 

He  forced  a  laugh,  but  there  was  no  good 
cheer  in  it. 


130  THE  FARMER   AND    THE   LORD. 

"Where's  father?"  he  asked,  with  some 
timidity. 

"  Doin'  the  chores,  dear,"  replied  the  mother; 
and  she  added,  unfortunately  and  because  she 
really  didn't  know  what  to  say,  "  shall  I  call 
him?  " 

"  For  heaven's  sake,  no,"  broke  forth  Sam. 
"  I  haven't  much  appetite,  you  see.  Don't  trou 
ble  about  the  cakes,  mother ;  this  cup  of  coffee 
is  all  I  want.  I'm  kind  of  nervous  and  unstrung, 
and  perhaps  it  will  brace  me  up."  He  gulped 
down  the  coffee,  and  said,  "  Now  I'll  go  up  to 
my  room  for  a  while  and  lie  down." 

As  he  passed  out  he  turned  to  his  mother. 
"  If  father  wants  to  see  me,  as  I  suppose  he  will, 
you  can  tell  him  where  I  am,"  and  he  disap 
peared. 

Do  you  know  I  have  a  very  tender  spot  in  my 
nature  for  a  fellow  like  Sam?  I  don't  believe 
that  even  a  mother  can  feel  as  badly  about  a  boy 
who  has  gone  wrong  as  the  boy  feels  about 
himself.  When  Sam  went  upstairs  he  despised 


THE   NEXT  MORNIXG.  \  3  I 

and  hated  himself.  I  am  not  sure  that  he 
wouldn't  have  got  away  with  himself  if  the  fatal 
drug  had  been  at  hand.  The  sufferings  of  a 
man  who  has  yielded  to  drink  and  lost  his  self- 
control  and  self-respect  are  something  terrible, 
and  when  Sam  sat  down  on  the  edge  of  the  bed 
he  looked  the  very  picture  of  despair. 

There  was  a  knock  at  the  door. 

"Come  in!"  Sam  recognized  that  knock, 
and  put  his  teeth  firmly  together. 

Lije  entered,  took  his  seat  on  the  opposite 
side  of  the  room,  and  for  a  minute  looked  at  the 
boy  without  saying  a  word. 

"  Well,  father,  I've  been  expecting  you,  and 
I  suppose  you've  come  to  handle  me  roughly." 

"  Don't  you  deserve  it?  " 

"Yes,  I  guess  I  do." 

"  You  have  dishonored  a  respectable  family, 
an'  ought  to  be  ashamed  of  yourself." 

"  I  reckon  most  folks  would  say  so,  and  espe 
cially  mother  and  Mary ;  but  I  can't  see  why 
you  should," 


132  THE  FARMER  AND    THE  LORD. 

"I,  Sam!  what  do  you  mean?  Can't  I  see 
that  you  are  spoilin'  your  life?  " 

"  Yes,  perhaps  you  do;  but  what  of  it?  My 
life  is  mine,  isn't  it?  And  can't  I  do  what  I 
please  with  my  own?  " 

"  But  you  are  bringin'  the  whole  family  to 
sorrow,  boy." 

"What  of  that,  father?  Why  need  they 
worry  about  me?  Let  them  live  their  own 
lives  in  their  own  way,  and  let  me  live  mine  in 
my  own  way.  I  don't  see  why  I  should  do 
what  they  want  me  to  do,  especially  as  I  don't 
ask  them  to  do  what  I  want  to  do." 

The  old  man  became  excited  at  this  point. 
He  was  dumfounded  at  the  audacity  of  the  boy, 
and  yet  it  was  plain  that  Sam  was  thinking 
along  certain  lines  which  appeared  to  him  to 
be  justifiable.  In  other  words,  he  didn't  talk 
for  the  purpose  of  excusing  himself,  but  for  the 
higher  purpose  of  defending  himself.  Lije  was 
on  his  feet,  and  his  eyes  blazed  with  uncon 
cealed  astonishment. 


THE  NEXT  MORNING.  133 

"  Suppose  I  do  drink  and  suppose  I  do  gam 
ble,  whose  business  is  it  except  my  own?  "  cried 
Sam,  in  desperation. 

"  Have  you  thought  of  the  consequences, 
Sam?  You'll  ruin  your  constitution." 

"  All  right;  it's  my  constitution,  not  yours." 

"  You'll  break  yourself  all  up,  boy,  an'  in  ten 
years  you'll  be  in  your  grave." 

"  Without  doubt,  father.  Everybody  must 
die  sometime,  and  what  are  a  few  years  more 
or  less  anyhow?  Life  isn't  worth  so  much  to 
me  that  I  care  to  take  special  care  of  it.  While 
I  do  live  I  might  as  well  make  a  merry  time  of 
it,  and  when  the  end  comes,  why,  let  it  come. 
I  don't  care." 

"  Look  here,  Sam,  what's  happened  to  you  ? 
You  didn't  use  to  talk  in  this  nonsensical  way." 

"It's  not  nonsensical,  father;  it  is  philosoph 
ical." 

"  Well,  you  beat  me,  Sam.  I  don't  see  where 
you  got  them  idees.  Just  see,  boy,  what  there 
is  in  your  futur',  if  you  behave  yourself." 


134  THE   FARMER  AND    THE   LORD. 

"  Won't  you  tell  me,  father,  for  I  confess  I 
don't  know?  " 

Sam  went  to  the  window  and  looked  out ; 
but  nothing  that  he  saw  interested  him,  neither 
the  sky  nor  the  fields  nor  the  flowing  river  in 
the  distance.  He  was  entirely  occupied  with 
his  own  gloomy  thoughts. 

"  Don't  you  know,  Sam,  without  my  tellin' 
you?  Your  mother  an'  I  won't  live  long;  in 
the  course  of  natur'  we  can't ;  then  the  farm  is 
yours  to  carry  on.  There's  an  honorable  an' 
a  profitable  life  before  you,  an',  I  don't  doubt, 
a  great  deal  of  happiness,  if  you  don't  fling  it 
away." 

"  You  draw  a  pretty  picture,  father ;  but  I 
don't  think  I  like  it." 

"  An'  you've  got  the  prospect  of  marryin'  the 
prettiest  girl  in  the  village  an'  havin'  a  family 
of  your  own." 

"No,  I  haven't,"  snapped  Sam,  as  he  turned 
and  faced  his  father,  with  a  strange  look  on  his 
face. 


THE  NEXT  MORNING.  135 

"You  haven't?     Why  not?" 

"  Because  she's  given  me  up." 

"  Sophy  Perkins  given  you  up?  " 

"  Yes ;  last  week,  and  she  did  right  too.  I 
don't  blame  her  a  bit.  Now  then,  what  is  there 
for  me  to  live  for?  All  this  beautiful  picture 
you  draw  is  mere  stuff." 

"You  don't  mean  it,  Sam,"  and  there  was  a 
gleam  of  pity  in  Lije's  eyes. 

"Yes,  I'm  sacked."  Sam  ran  his  hands  into 
his  pockets,  and  flushed  crimson. 

"  I  guess  we  must  see  about  that,"  retorted 
Lije.  "But  then,  I  s'pose — " 

"  And  you  will  suppose  correctly,  father. 
There  is  no  reason  why  she  should  marry  a 
drunkard  that  I  know  of,  and  I'm  pretty  nigh 
to  one,  I  guess.  But  who  cares?  What  incen 
tive  have  I  to  lead  what  you  call  an  exemplary 
life?  Do  you  know  of  any?  " 

"  What  kind  of  thinkin',  Sam,  have  you  been 
cloin',  I'd  like  to  know,  to  lead  you  astray 
like  that?  Have  the  fellows  you've  been  asso- 


136  THE  FARMER  AND    THE  LORD. 

ciatin'  with  put  that  kind  of  reasonin'  into  your 
head?" 

"No;  we  haven't  discussed  the  subject,"  re 
marked  Sam  very  doggedly. 

"  Where  did  you  get  it  then — tell  me  that?  " 

"  Why,  to  be  entirely  frank,  I  got  it  from  you, 
father." 

"  Me?  Me,  Sam?  Are  you  crazy?  Did  I 
ever  gamble  or  drink  ?  Haven't  I  been  econom 
ical  an'  reg'lar  all  my  life?  " 

"  Yes,  you  have ;  but  it's  been  in  spite  of  your 
belief,  father.  Now  listen  to  me,  and  I'll  tell 
you  something  you  don't  know,  but  something 
it  is  time  you  did  know.  Let  us  talk  squarely, 
father.  How  was  I  brought  up?  Like  other 
boys?  " 

"Why,  Sam—" 

"  Now  don't  interrupt  me.  I've  waited  a 
good  while  to  have  my  say,  and  I'm  going  to 
have  it.  After  that  you  can  turn  me  out  of  the 
house  if  you  see  fit.  I  know  what  you  have  been 
thinking  about,  father,  and  I'll  pack  up  if  you 


THE   NEXT  MORNING.  137 

say  so,  and  go  to  the  city  or  go  to  the  devil  or 
both;  it  makes  mighty  little  difference  to  me." 

Lije  grew  pale.  There  was  something  on  his 
son's  mind,  and  he  didn't  like  the  looks  of  it. 
I  think  he  trembled ;  possibly  there  was  fear  in 
his  heart,  for  it  was  evident  that  this  was  no 
mere  outburst  of  passion  on  the  boy's  part. 

"  Did  you  teach  me  as  a  youngster  to  believe 
in  God?  On  the  other  hand,  you  told  me  there 
isn't  one.  I  have  noticed  that  the  people  who 
believe  in  God  have  something  or  other  in  their 
lives  that  restrains  them.  You  needn't  look 
twice  to  see  that.  What  it  is  I  don't  know,  but 
it's  something.  Now  I  never  had  that ;  so  I 
reasoned  that  if  there  is  no  God  then  there's  no 
obligation  to  do  as  He  wants  me  to  do.  I  am 
left  to  go  my  own  way,  and  if  things  don't  turn 
out  well  it's  my  fault,  and  if  I  want  to  pursue  a 
certain  course  and  take  the  consequences,  why 
shouldn't  I  ?  There  is  nobody  to  reckon  with, 
nobody  to  bring  me  to  account,  so  I  do  as  I 
please." 


138  THE  FARMER  AND    THE  LORD. 

"  Hold  up,  Sam—" 

"  I  will  not,  father.  Wait  till  I've  done,  and 
then  you  can  talk  as  long  as  you  please.  You 
taught  me  that  what  is  called  religion  is  a  pack 
of  lies,  and  that  most  of  the  folks  who  accept  it 
are  fools.  All  right.  I  haven't  got  any  religion, 
and  here  I  am.  It's  not  my  fault,  it's  yours; 
and  if  I'm  not  what  you  wish  me  to  be  you  have 
yourself  to  blame ;  for  if  there  isn't  any  God  and 
if  there  isn't  any  religion  and  if  there  isn't  any 
hereafter,  why  shouldn't  I  gratify  every  appe 
tite  and  passion  ?  Why  shouldn't  I  get  what  I 
can,  and  keep  what  I  get  ?  And  if  I  want  to 
make  a  joke  of  my  life,  what's  to  hinder?  " 

"  But  your  honor,  Sam,  your  honor,  boy!  " 

"  Honor!  What's  honor  but  a  name?  Why 
should  I  be  honorable  if  I  don't  think  it  pays  or 
if  I  wish  to  do  something  dishonorable?  Honor 
is  mere  folderol.  You  have  taught  me  that  I 
am  to  die  a  dog's  death ;  then  why  shouldn't  I 
live  a  dog's  life  if  it  pleases  me  ?  Suppose  I  love 
somebody?  Why,  love  is  a  mere  convenience, 


THE  NEXT  MORNING.  139 

a  sort  of  luxury  to  make  me  comfortable ;  and  if 
I  don't  care  to  be  comfortable  that  way  is  there 
any  reason  why  I  should  be  loyal  to  that  love  ? 
At  best  it's  a  merely  temporary  matter,  and 
when  I  get  killed — bah!  that's  the  end  of  the 
love  and  the  end  of  me.  Come  now,  father,  I 
put  it  to  you ;  is  there  anything  in  that  theory 
which  will  restrain  me,  or  make  me  sacrifice  for 
the  good  of  others,  or  induce  me  to  lead  a  moral 
life?  So  far  as  I  can  see,  if  there's  nothing 
beyond  and  nobody  up  above  to  care  whether 
there's  a  beyond  or  not,  why  should  I  bother 
myself?  If  I  want  a  thing  I'm  going  to  have 
it ;  and  if  I  find  more  pleasure  in  whisky  than  in 
attending  to  the  farm,  then  why  shouldn't  I  take 
the  whisky?  Here  I  am  a  half-made  drunkard, 
and  I  tell  you  plainly  that  I  am  what  I  am  be 
cause  you  brought  me  up  to  disbelieve  every 
thing  that  other  people  who  lead  moral  lives 
hold  dear.  That's  the  simple  fact,  and  I  don't 
see  why  I  shouldn't  go  on  as  I  have  begun. 
According  to  your  own  thinking,  you  ought  to 


140          THE  FARMER  AND    THE  LORD. 

encourage  me  to  go  on  and  to  help  me  to  have 
a  good  time  in  my  own  way. 

"  There,  father,  I've  done.  Now  you  can  say 
what  you  please,  and  if  you  want  me  to  clear 
out  and  leave  the  family  in  peace  I'll  go  at  a 
moment's  notice.  I  don't  care  what  becomes  of 
me,  and  the  sooner  the  wretched  farce  is  ended 
the  better  for  all  concerned." 

Lije  was  greatly  affected  by  what  his  son  had 
said.  I  don't  say  he  was  convinced — far  from 
it ;  but  he  saw  that  the  boy  believed  he  was  in 
the  right.  It  wouldn't  do  to  threaten  him,  for 
he  would  leave  the  house  that  very  morning, 
and  as  for  reasoning  with  him,  that  would  be  a 
very  difficult  matter. 

Fortunately  the  father-heart  of  the  man  took 
control  of  him.  He  pitied  that  boy,  and  was 
ready  to  do  anything  to  save  him.  Acting  under 
this  impulse,  he  went  to  the  window  where  Sam 
was  standing,  put  his  hand  on  his  shoulder,  and 
in  very  tremulous  but  quiet  tones  said : 


THE  NEXT  MORNING.  141 

"  My  son,  I  don't  think  I  can  argue  this  ques 
tion  with  you  just  now.  You  see,  I  am  taken 
by  surprise,  an'  have  been  so  troubled  lately 
that  I  haven't  my  wits  about  me." 

"  That's  all  right,  father ;  I  don't  care  to  argue. 
You've  always  told  me  that  it  is  better  to  be 
perfectly  frank,  and  you  see  I  have  been." 

I  wonder  if  any  two  men  ever  suffered  as  they 
did  at  that  moment.  All  anger  subsided,  and 
as  they  stood  there,  father  and  son,  each  was 
sorry  for  the  other. 

"  I  s'pose  I  haven't  been  to  you,  Sam,  all  I 
should  have  been ;  but  I  did  the  best  I  knew 
how." 

"  Look  here,  father,"  and  Sam's  eyes  had  tears 
in  them  ;  "  I  can't  stand  that.  In  most  respects 
you've  been  the  best  father  a  fellow  ever  had. 
I  don't  believe  there's  been  a  time  when  you 
wouldn't  have  made  any  sacrifice  for  me." 

"  I  think  so,  Sam,"  and  poor  Lije  was  on  the 
point  of  breaking  down. 


142  THE  FARMER  AND    THE  LORD. 

"  And,  father,  you  had  strong  convictions,  and 
you  stood  up  for  them  against  the  odds  of  the 
world.  But — " 

"  But  what,  Sam?" 

"  Well,  I  think  there  must  have  been  a  screw 
loose  somewhere  in  your  theory,  or  I  shouldn't 
be  where  I  am  now.  I  can't  blame  you,  and  I 
don't  want  to  hurt  your  feelings,  but  that's  the 
way  the  matter  looks  to  me." 

It  was  a  terrible  arraignment,  delivered  with 
equal  firmness  and  tenderness.  Lije  felt  it 
deeply.  It  stung  him  like  a  hornet,  and  the 
dear  old  fellow  stood  in  the  presence  of  the  boy, 
the  very  picture  of  despair.  He  cried  in  anguish, 
"  Sam,  that's  terrible !  I  never  thought  I'd 
come  to  that.  My  God !  " 

"  Father,"  replied  Sam  softly,  "  there  isn't  any 
God,  so  it's  useless  to  appeal  to  Him.  I  wish 
to  heaven  there  were  one.  If  I  were  only  sure 
that  you  are  wrong,  father,  and  that  there  is 
Somebody  somewhere  who  cares  a  penny  about 
us  poor  devils  who  blindly  struggle  with  fate,  it 


THE  NEXT  MORNING.  143 

would  make  a  great  difference  with  me.  But," 
and  he  took  the  old  man's  hand  in  his — "  but, 
father,  don't  blame  yourself,  no  matter  what 
happens  to  me.  I  can  drop  out  of  your  life  and 
go  my  own  way.  I  can't  stay  here  and  see 
mother  and  Mary  worrying  about  me.  I'll  just 
pack  up  and  get  out,  and  after  a  while  you'll 
forget —  " 

"  Sam,  Sam,  do  you  know  what  you  are  say- 
in'  ?  Do  you  think  I  can  let  you  go,  my  boy  ? 
Aren't  your  troubles  mine,  an'  won't  I  stand 
by  you  through  thick  an'  thin?  The  girl  may 
send  you  off,  an'  I'm  not  findin'  fault  with  her 
for  doin'  it ;  but  your  father  won't  let  you  go. 
I  couldn't  bear  it,  Sam;  no,  I  couldn't  bear  it" 

Let  us  drop  the  curtain  here.  There  are  some 
scenes  which  no  pen  can  describe,  and  this  was 
one  of  them. 


VIII. 

A   LESSON  IN  ASTRONOMY. 

ONE  evening  about  a  year  before  he  died  our 
old  friend,  Hiram  Golf,  was  in  Jessig's  library, 
mousing  among  his  books.  He  was  vastly  inter 
ested  in  a  volume  of  mythology,  and  one  story 
in  particular  struck  his  attention. 

"  Eureky !  I've  got  it,  parson,"  he  exclaimed  ; 
"  I've  got  the  best  thing  yet!" 

"What  is  it,  Hiram?"  asked  Jessig,  looking 
up  from  his  writing. 

"Don't  let  me  disturb  you,  parson;  I  forgot 
myself  for  the  minute." 

"  Go  on,  Hiram  ;  I  want  to  know  what  you've 
found." 

"  It's  the  secret  of  the  religious  life,  an' 
nothin'  short." 

144 


A    LESSON  IN  ASTRONOMY.  145 

"  Indeed !  Well,  perhaps  you  will  let  me 
share  your  discovery.  I've  been  looking  after 
that  very  thing  for  a  good  many  years." 

"  It  seems  there  was  a  lot  of  sirens  in  those 
old  times,"  continued  Hiram,  "  an'  they  had 
partic'larly  good  voices.  They  could  sing  so 
sweetly  that  the  sailors  goin'  by  forgot  to  attend 
to  their  vessel,  an'  as  a  consequence  they  got 
shipwrecked.  By  the  way,  parson,  the  same 
things  are  goin'  on  nowadays,  I  reckon." 

"  Yes,  I've  heard  that  story,  Hiram." 

"  No  doubt,  no  doubt ;  but  here's  the  applica 
tion  of  it.  Perhaps  you  haven't  thought  of  that. " 

"  I  can't  answer  until  I  know  what  your  ap 
plication  is,  my  dear  friend." 

"  Naterally  not.  This  man,  Ulysses — do  I 
pronounce  his  name  right,  parson?  Thank'ee, 
then  I'll  go  ahead ;  this  man,  Ulysses,  wasn't 
much  of  a  fellow,  I  jedge  from  what  the  book 
says.  He  was  so  scared  for  fear  they  might  all 
yield  to  temptation  that  he  made  his  sailors  stick 
wax  in  their  ears — I  don't  know  how  they  ever 


146  THE  FARMER  AND    THE   LORD. 

got  it  out,  parson — an'  then  he  told  'em  to  tie 
him  tight  to  the  mast.  In  that  way  he  got  by 
this  point  of  land  where  the  sirens  was,  an' 
sailed  out  into  deep  water.  Now  that  is  just 
like  some  folks'  religion,  don't  you  see?" 

"  Explain,  Hiram." 

"  Why,  it's  as  plain  as  a  pikestaff.  When  a 
man  has  only  half  got  religion,  he's  afraid  of 
temptation,  an'  he  must  either  stuff  his  ears 
with  wax  or  bind  himself  to  a  mast." 

Jessig  nodded. 

"  But  one  day  a  passenger  named  Orpheus 
was  on  board.  He  had  a  harp  or  somethin',  I 
forget  what,  an'  he  could  play  on  it  first-rate. 
When  these  sirens  began  their  music  he  just  lis 
tened  careless  like,  an'  when  it  was  over  he  said 
to  himself,  '  Well,  sirens,  that'll  do  very  well, 
for  you  ;  but  you're  only  second-rate  musicians. 
Just  hear  me.'  An'  he  took  up  his  harp  an' 
played  so  mighty  well  that  the  sailors  didn't  care 
any  more  for  the  sirens'  song  because  they'd 
rather  listen  to  Orpheus.  An'  then  these  sirens 


A    LESSON  IN  ASTRONOMY.  147 

gave  up  the  job  of  temptin'  folks  an'  drowned 
themselves." 

"  Now  for  the  application,  Hiram." 

"  I  apply  it  in  this  way,  parson.  When  a 
man  has  got  somethin'  inside  of  him  that  gives 
him  more  pleasure  than  anythin'  the  world  an' 
the  flesh  an'  the  devil  can  furnish,  then  you  can 
turn  him  loose,  for  there  ain't  no  danger.  If 
somebody  offers  me  a  copper  cent  an'  I've  got 
my  pockets  full  of  gold,  that-  man  can't  tempt 
me  to  do  anythin'  with  that  cent  for  his  bribe. 
So  when  a  man  has  all  that  God  can  give  in  his 
heart  he  needn't  be  afraid  of  nothin'. 

"  What  you  preachers  ought  to  do,"  continued 
Hiram,  "  is  to  get  hold  of  the  poor  fellows  who 
have  gone  astray,  an*  get  'em  interested  in  some- 
thin'  that  is  better  than  what  they've  been  havin'. 
Then  you'll  preach  to  some  purpose;  an'  you 
won't  do  your  best  work  until  you  tackle  the 
problem  in  just  that  way/' 

I  have  an  object  in  relating  this  incident,  as 
you  will  soon  see. 


148  THE   FARMER   AND    THE   LORD. 

A  day  or  two  after  the  events  of  the  last 
chapter  Mary  and  her  mother  called  on  Jessig 
in  behalf  of  Sam.  They  told  their  story  in  such 
pathetic  fashion  that  Jessig  was  interested,  and 
at  once  offered  his  services  in  any  capacity. 

"  If  we  could  once  get  his  mind  off  of  these 
things,"  said  Samanthy,  "  he  might  forget  all 
about  'em.  He's  a  good  boy  at  heart,  an'  must 
be  saved  somehow." 

"Yes,  certainly,"  and  Jessig  seemed  to  be 
thinking  pretty  deeply. 

"  He  is  very  fond  of  books,"  added  Mary, 
"  and  was  the  first  scholar  in  his  class  at  the 
academy.  If  you  could  have  him  here  in  your 
library  for  a  night  or  two  every  week  it  wouldn't 
be  long  before  this  spasm  of  drink  would  be  over 
and  he'd  become  his  real  self  again." 

Then  it  was  that  Jessig  recalled  his  conversa 
tion  with  Hiram.  It  came  like  a  flash,  and  he 
at  once  saw  his  way  out  of  the  perplexity. 

"  I  have  it!  I  have  it!"  he  exclaimed.  "  I'll 
try  an  experiment,  and  I  really  believe  it  will 


A    LESSON  IN  ASTRONOMY.  149 

be  successful ;  if  Sam  has  the  mettle  we'll  save 
him. "  Jessig  was  almost  hilarious  as  he  said  this. 

"  I've  got  an  idea.  No,  it's  not  mine ;  it  was 
given  to  me  by  Hiram  Golf.  Perhaps,  my  dear 
friends,  the  spirit  of  that  saintly  shoemaker  is 
here  at  this  moment,  and  has  reminded  me  of 
something  he  said  long  ago,  which  I  think  has 
special  reference  to  this  case." 

About  a  week  later  Jessig's  plan  had  matured. 
He  was  an  amateur  astronomer,  knew  the  con 
stellations  by  name,  and  was  on  friendly,  not  to 
say  familiar,  terms  with  them.  His  friend,  Pro 
fessor  Rand,  had  charge  of  an  observatory  near 
the  city,  and  offered  to  loan  him  at  any  time  a 
telescope  with  a  three-and-a-half-inch  objective. 
Then  Mr.  Sloan,  who  lived  during  the  sum 
mer  on  a  hill  within  easy  walking  distance,  had 
invited  him  to  make  use  of  his  piazza.  Every 
thing  seemed  to  be  propitious. 

Then  six  little  missives  were  sent,  inviting 
three  boys  and  three  girls  to  meet  at  the  min 
ister's  study  on  a  given  evening,  and  the  mis- 


150          THE  FARMER  AND    THE  LORD. 

sives  explained  that  the  pastor  desired  to  get  up 
a  class  in  astronomy.  Of  course  Sam  received 
one,  and,  oddly  enough,  Sophy  Perkins  received 
another.  Jessig  had  heard  the  particulars  of  that 
love-affair,  and  knew  well  enough  that  when  a 
man  is  to  be  taken  in  hand  the  best  helper  that 
can  be  had  is  a  woman. 

But  Jessig  was  very  shrewd ;  for  he  invited 
Sophy's  brother  also,  3.  rather  stupid  lad,  pre 
senting  a  strong  contrast  to  the  others,  who  had 
all  been  to  the  academy,  and  three  of  whom 
had  graduated  with  honors.  But  Jessig  saw  the 
danger  of  the  situation,  and  handled  it  with  a 
good  deal  of  skill.  If  Sam  and  Sophy  kept  apart 
then  the  brother  would  serve  a  purpose ;  and  if 
Sam  and  Sophy  came  together  again  then  the 
brother  could  be  easily  disposed  of. 

Sophy  showed  the  letter  to  her  father  and 
mother,  and  at  first  they  shook  their  heads. 
The  girl,  however,  had  a  good  deal  of  intellec 
tual  curiosity,  and  had  taught  one  term  in  the 
district  school  as  an  assistant. 


A   LESSON  IN  ASTRONOMY.  151 

"  I  dunno  about  this,"  said  the  father,  when 
he  and  the  mother  were  alone.  "  Tears  to  me 
like  playin'  with  fire.  Girls  are  queer  things 
anyway." 

"  Our  Sophy  isn't,"  replied  the  mother  rather 
tartly.  "  She  sent  Sam  about  his  business  with 
out  consultin'  us,  an'  I  guess  she  can  take  care 
of  herself  now.  She's  got  a  will  of  her  own,  an' 
she  wants  to  go.  I  think  we'd  better  let  her." 

So  it  was  decided. 

The  little  meeting  was  a  memorable  one. 
Sophy  and  Sam  sat  on  opposite  sides  of  the 
room,  and  Sam  at  least  was  extremely  nervous 
and  uneasy.  He  would  give  a  quick  glance  at 
Sophy  and  then  as  quickly  turn  away,  his  face 
reddening  as  though  he  had  committed  a  crime. 
Once  during  the  evening  their  eyes  met,  and  if 
you  had  witnessed  that  incident  you  would  have 
been  assured  of  two  things — that  Sophy  was  as 
much  in  love  with  Sam  as  ever,  and  that  Sam 
was  about  as  wretched  a  human  being  as  can 
well  be  conceived. 


152  THE   FARMER  AND    THE   LORD. 

Jessig,  remember,  was  determined,  if  possible, 
to  save  the  boy,  and  felt  convinced  that  he  could 
do  it.  He  didn't  let  it  appear,  but  he  was  really 
behind  the  scenes,  and  took  in  the  situation  with 
the  adroitness  of  an  expert. 

When  they  were  seated  about  the  table,  as  he 
had  requested,  he  said  very  simply : 

"  We  have  a  long  winter  before  us,  and  I 
thought  we  might  get  together  once  a  week  for 
an  evening  and  cheer  ourselves  up.  As  for  my 
self,  I  find  my  pastoral  labors  a  little  dull  and 
monotonous  at  times,  and  perhaps  you  can  say 
the  same  of  your  work  on  the  farm  and  in  the 
house.  So  when  I  get  tired  of  one  thing  I  begin 
to  do  something  else,  and  find  refreshment  in 
the  change. 

"  An  aged  friend  of  mine  once  said  that  every 
man  should  have  a  vocation  and  an  avocation. 
By  that  he  meant  that  every  man  should  do  one 
thing  by  which  he  makes  his  living,  and  in  his 
leisure  hours  do  something  else  by  way  of  relief. 
He  was  a  lawyer  with  a  large  practice,  and  I 


A    LESSON  IN  ASTRONOMY.  153 

once  warned  him  that  he  would  break  down  un 
less  he  let  up  now  and  again.  He  answered, 
'  Do  I  look  like  a  man  that  is  breaking  down  ?  ' 
and  I  had  to  confess  that  to  all  appearance  he 
was  fresh  and  hearty.  Then  he  told  me  his 
secret.  He  said,  '  I  couldn't  stand  the  daily 
strain  on  my  nerves  if  I  didn't  take  a  day  off 
every  week  no  matter  what  my  engagements 
are.  Saturday  is  my  holiday,  and  what  do  you 
suppose  I  do,  Jessig?'  Of  course  I  couldn't 
guess.  '  Well,'  he  continued,  '  I  am  a  lawyer 
up  to  Friday  night,  but  on  Saturday  morning  I 
am  a  photographer.  I  take  my  camera,  run  out 
by  train  or  with  my  team  into  the  country,  and 
tramp  all  day  taking  pictures;  summer  or  win 
ter,  it  makes  no  difference.  My  camera  is  my 
doctor  and  my  medicine  and  my  delight.  I  get 
away  from  legal  perplexities  and  have  a  little 
quiet  chat  with  nature,  with  hills  that  are  covered 
with  grass  or  snow,  with  quiet  nooks  and  exqui 
site  bits  of  landscape  which  nobody  seems  to 
know  anything  about  except  myself.  Now  if 


154  THE  FARMER  AND    THE   LORD. 

you  will  pursue  that  policy,  follow  a  course  of 
study  that  will  make  you  forget  your  clerical 
cares,  it  will  keep  the  wrinkles  out  of  your  fore 
head  for  many  a  year  to  come.  You  must  pru 
dently  mingle  duty  with  fun,  and  your  whole 
life  will  be  lighted  up.' 

"  I  think  he  was  a  very  wise  man,  and  I  have 
followed  his  advice.  I  didn't  care  much  for 
photography,  but  when  I  was  in  college  one  of 
my  intimates  was  an  astronomer,  a  fellow  who 
has  since  those  days  achieved  considerable  fame, 
and  I  acquired  a  kind  of  enthusiasm  for  the  sci 
ence.  I  don't  pretend  to  anything  but  the  most 
rudimentary  knowledge,  and  yet  even  that  has 
afforded  me  a  good  deal  of  pleasure. 

"  Now  if  you  like  my  plan  we'll  study  the 
subject  as  well  as  we  can  together,  and  by  the 
spring  we  ought  to  be  able  to  recognize  a  good 
many  acquaintances  among  the  constellations. 
The  air  is  wonderfully  pure  here,  and  on  a  clear 
night  the  stars  are  exceptionally  brilliant.  What 
say  you  ?  " 


A    LESSON  IN  ASTRONOMY.  155 

There  was  a  general  movement  among  the 
company,  and  every  head  was  nodded,  as  though 
the  scheme  struck  them  very  favorably.  Tom 
Perkins  also  nodded,  but  it  was  with  a  different 
purpose,  for  the  poor  fellow  was  already  half 
asleep. 

"  Well,  when  shall  we  begin?  "  asked  Jessig. 

"Why  not  begin  right  now?"  asked  Will 
Randall,  who  took  a  medal  at  the  academy. 

"  And  where  shall  we  begin  ?  "  pursued  Jessig. 
Then  he  added,  "  Will  you  let  me  suggest  that, 
though  our  own  little  solar  system  occupies  only 
a  point  in  infinite  space,  still,  as  it  is  the  most 
interesting  part  of  the  universe  to  us,  it  might 
be  well  to  start  with  some  facts  about  the  Sun  ? 
What  do  you  say,  Sam?  " 

After  a  moment's  hesitation,  but  feeling  some 
what  honored  as  well  as  embarrassed  by  this 
personal  reference,  Sam  answered,  "  I  think  I 
am  more  interested  in  the  Earth  than  in  anything 
else,  because  it's  nearer  home." 

"True,"  said  Jessig,  "but  there  wouldn't  be 


156  THE  FARMER  AND    THE   LORD. 

any  Earth  if  it  were  not  for  the  Sun,  and  there 
fore —  " 

"  Well,"  broke  in  Will,  "  if  that's  so  we've  got 
our  starting-point  settled  upon.  Tell  us  why 
there  wouldn't  be  any  Earth,  Mr.  Jessig." 

"  The  Sun,"  began  the  parson,  "  is  the  center 
around  which  all  the  planets  in  our  system 
swing,  from  little  Mercury,  which  is  nearest,  to 
Neptune,  which  is  farthest  away.  It  is  possible 
that  there  may  be  other  planets  beyond  Neptune, 
but  they  have  not  been  discovered.  Since  the 
time  of  Herschel  two  outlying  planets,  Uranus 
and  Neptune,  have  been  added  to  the  list  made 
by  our  fathers,  and  by  and  by  some  one  may 
discover  another.  The  Sun  is  the  great  attract 
ing  body,  and  if  it  were  suddenly  blotted  out 
the  planets  would  crumble  into  bits  and  fly  off 
into  space  to  become  meteors  or  comets.  The 
Sun  holds  us  together  as  a  system  by  the  enor 
mous  influence  of  gravitation.  Let  me  illus 
trate." 

Jessig  took  a  ring  of  metal,  and  to  it  he  at- 


A    LESSON  IN  ASTRONOMY.  157 

tached  a  string  which  he  tied  to  his  finger. 
Then  with  a  motion  of  his  hand  the  ring  began 
to  revolve  at  a  distance  of  three  feet. 

"  What  forces  the  metal  to  make  a  circle  round 
my  hand  at  just  such  a  distance?  "  he  inquired. 

"The  string,  of  course." 

"  Now  suppose  the  string  were  suddenly  cut, 
what  then?  " 

"  The  iron  ring  would  go  through  the  win 
dow,"  answered  Sam. 

"  Precisely.  Well,  gravitation  is  to  the  planets 
what  the  string  is  to  this  bit  of  metal.  It  keeps 
them  in  place.  But  if  the  Sun  were  annihilated 
what  would  occur?" 

"  Something  pretty  serious  for  us,  I  reckon," 
cried  Will.  "  We  should  all  go  to  kingdom 
come  in  a  jiffy." 

"Yes,"  remarked  Jessig;  "the  cold  in  inter 
stellar  space  is  inconceivable.  Langley  tells  us 
that  the  temperature  in  the  infinite  void  has 
been  estimated  as  four  hundred  degrees  below 
zero,  and  when  you  remember  that  mercury  will 


158          THE  FARMER  AND    THE  LORD. 

freeze  in  the  bulb  at  thirty-nine  degrees  below 
zero  you  can  get  an  indistinct  idea  of  how  cold 
it  is  up  there." 

"  It  is  easy  to  see  what  would  happen  then," 
said  Sam,  "  if  the  Sun  were  put  out." 

"  True,"  responded  Jessig  ;  "  we  should  within 
a  month  become  as  solidly  frozen  as  a  cube  of 
Arctic  ice.  So  you  see  without  the  Sun  this 
Earth  would  be  useless.  We  are  comfortable, 
however,  even  at  night,  because  we  have  an 
atmosphere  encircling  us  one  or  two  hundred 
miles  deep,  and  in  this  atmosphere,  which  is 
filled  with  particles  of  matter,  the  heat  which 
the  Sun  sheds  in  the  daytime  is  stored. 

"  The  Sun  causes  the  water  of  the  ocean  to 
evaporate  and  form  clouds,  which  are  simply 
thin  water ;  then  the  wind  blows  the  clouds  over 
the  land,  and  when  they  strike  a  cold  stratum  of 
air  they  condense,  and,  turning  into  raindrops, 
fall  upon  the  sod  and  make  the  grass  grow. 
Without  the  Sun's  rays  you  could  have  no  for 
ests,  no  rivers,  no  flowers,  no  wheat  or  corn." 


A    LESSON  IN  ASTRONOMY.  159 

"How  much  heat  comes  from  the  Sun?" 
asked  Sophy. 

"  That  is  hard  to  say,  Sophy,"  replied  Jessig. 
"  Here  is  Professor  Ball's  '  Story  of  the  Heavens,' 
and  in  that  we  are  told  that  '  the  Earth  can 
grasp  the  merest  fraction'  of  it,  less  than  the  two- 
thousand-millionth  part  of  the  whole  ;  and  then 
he  uses  this  striking  language :  '  The  sip  that  a 
flying  swallow  takes  from  a  river  is  as  far  from 
exhausting  the  water  in  the  river  as  are  the 
planets  from  using  all  the  heat  which  streams 
from  the  Sun.'  ' 

"  Isn't  that  a  great  waste  of  the  raw  mate 
rial?"  asked  Will. 

"  It  would  seem  so,  but  perhaps  sometime, 
when  we  understand  the  subject  better,  we  shall 
have  a  different  opinion." 

"  Tell  me,"  asked  Sam;  "  how  big  is  the  Sun  ? 
It  looks  as  though  it  were  a  flash-light,  while 
the  stars  are  only  penny  dips." 

"  That  illusion  is  caused  by  our  nearness  to  it. 
In  reality,  the  Sun  is  not  comparatively  a  large 


160          THE  FARMER  AND    THE  LORD. 

body.  For  instance,  the  little  star  Arcturus, 
which  you  will  see  next  summer  in  the  western 
sky,  looks  hardly  bigger  than  a  silver  half-dollar, 
but  that  is  in  consequence  of  its  distance.  It  is 
said  to  be  three  thousand  times  as  large  as  the 
Sun,  and  there  are  other  stars  which  are  infi 
nitely  bigger  than  our  orb." 

"  Well,  it  is  rather  sizable  after  all,  I  take  it/' 
said  Sam,  "  and  I  think  we  ought  to  stand  up 
for  it  if  there  is  going  to  be  any  competition." 

"  How  large,  Sam,  should  you  think  it?  " 

"  I  don't  know,  Mr.  Jessig.  I  remember  some 
thing  about  several  hundred  thousand  miles  in 
diameter,  but  that's  all." 

"  Just  think  of  it,"  said  the  parson.  "  If  you 
should  put  the  Earth  at  the  center  of  the  Sun 
the  Moon  could  revolve  about  it  just  as  it  does 
now  and  not  come  within  a  hundred  thousand 
miles  of  the  Sun's  circumference." 

"  Is  the  thing  solid?  "  asked  Will. 

"  Oh  no,  and  oh  yes.  As  fuel  and  fire  are 
solid  so  is  the  Sun  solid.  It  is  a  huge  bonfire, 


A   LESSON  IN  ASTRONOMY.  l6l 

sending  out  its  glorious  rays  to  an  inconceivable 
distance.  It  is  not  as  dense'  as  the  Earth,  but  it 
is  more  dense  than  some  of  the  other  planets. 
Saturn,  for  instance,  is  so  light  that,  if  it  were 
possible  to  try  the  experiment,  it  would  float  on 
water  like  a  piece  of  pine,  and,  as  Professor  Ball 
says,  (  with  one  fourth  of  its  bulk  out  of  the 
water.' ' 

"  But  what  feeds  this  great  furnace?"  asked 
some  one. 

"  That  is  a  very  interesting  question,  and 
authorities  differ  somewhat.  Ball  says  that  if 
the  Moon  were  crushed  into  atoms,  and  these 
atoms  were  showered  on  the  Sun,  it  would  keep 
the  fire  going  for  about  a  year.  The  Earth,  if 
similarly  crushed  and  put  into  the  fire,  would  keep 
it  going  for  perhaps  one  hundred  years.  There 
are  myriads  of  shooting  stars  which  are  caught 
by  the  Sun  just  as  a  candle  catches  a  moth,  and 
these  constitute  a  fractional  supply  of  fuel.  But, 
you  know,  the  great  body  of  the  Sun  is  gradu 
ally  contracting,  I  believe  at  the  rate  of  some- 


1 62  THE  FARMER  AND    THE   LORD. 

thing  over  two  hundred  feet  per  year,  which 
means  that  a  hardening  process  is  going  on 
slowly." 

"  Hardening?"  cried  Sam.  "Why,  then  it's 
only  a  matter  of  time  before  the  fire  goes  out! " 

"  Quite  right,"  said  Jessig,  "  only  a  matter  of 
time." 

"  How  long?  "  asked  Will. 

"They  reckon  about  ten  million  years." 

"Well,  what  will  happen  then?"  and  Sophy 
seemed  excited. 

"  Oh,  then  the  end  of  the  whole  solar  sys 
tem,  and  after  that,  a  '  new  heaven  and  a  new 
earth.'" 

But  I  must  not  go  further  into  detail.  The 
young  folks  were  greatly  charmed  at  the  win 
ter's  prospect  if  this  evening  could  be  taken  as  a 
sample  of  the  discussions,  and  adjourned  to  the 
dining-room,  where  Mrs.  Jessig  had  prepared  a 
simple  repast — a  bit  of  cake  and  a  cup  of  hot 
coffee. 

When  they  parted   they  were  in  high  glee. 


A    LESSON  IN  ASTRONOMY.  163 

But  Sam  had  had  only  a  word  with  Sophy.  As 
they  were  putting  on  their  wraps  the  two  col 
lided,  and  Sam  cried,  in  a  broken  way,  "  I  didn't 
mean  to — indeed  I  didn't,"  and  Sophy  cheerily 
replied,  "  I  know  you  didn't,  Sam  ;  it's  all  right." 
Sam's  heart  was  lightened  by  her  voice  and 
her  manner,  and  all  the  way  home  he  thought 
of  Sophy's  face,  to  the  exclusion,  I  fear,  of  the 
Sun  and  all  the  other  planets. 


IX. 

SAM  AND  JESSIG  AGREE. 

THAT  was  a  memorable  winter.  How  could 
it  be  otherwise  with  such  a  teacher  and  such  a 
subject  ?  The  class  became  intensely  interested, 
and  many  a  night  they  were  to  be  found  on  the 
piazza,  on  the  hilltop,  looking  through  the  little 
telescope  and  through  the  clear  frosty  air  at  stars 
which  seemed  to  be  a  blaze  of  divine  glory. 
They  were  all  thoroughly  enthusiastic,  and  to 
this  day,  though  that  was  ten  years  ago,  and  the 
members  have  homes  of  their  own  and  children 
of  their  own,  they  refer  to  that  winter  as  one  of 
the  pleasantest  experiences  of  their  lives. 

After  a  few  weeks  the  boys  and  girls  became 
familiar  with  the  constellations  and  could  call 
them  by  name.  During  December  their  espe- 
164 


SAM  AND  JESSIG  AGREE.  165 

cial  attention  was  devoted  to  that  wonder  of  the 
wintry  heavens,  Orion,  the  most  conspicuous  and 
the  most  awe-inspiring  of  all  the  many  groups. 

"  Orion's  beams!    Orion's  beams! 

His  star-gemmed  belt  and  shining  blade, 
His  isles  of  light,  his  silvery  streams, 
And  gloomy  gulfs  of  mystic  shade!  " 

There  on  the  left  is  the  magnificent  orb  Betel- 
geuse,  and  on  the  right  the  almost  equally 
bright  star  Bellatrix,  while  on  the  lower  edge 
sweeps  Rigel  in  stately  dignity  through  the 
heavens.  Just  above  the  three  stars  of  lesser 
magnitude  which  form  the  belt  is  that  historic 
nebula  consisting  of  a  thousand  worlds  perhaps, 
so  far  away  that  it  seems  like  a  bit  of  white  wool 
floating  in  the  air.  Not  even  the  Lick  telescope 
can  resolve  it  into  its  separate  atoms,  and  yet 
with  the  little  glass  which  the  class  used  it  pre 
sented  an  interesting  spectacle. 

Jessig  remarked  that  this  constellation  had 
excited  the  wonder  of  all  ages,  and  quoted  from 
the  prophet  Amos  :  "  Seek  Him  that  maketh  the 


1 66  THE  FARMER  AND    THE  LORD. 

seven  stars  and  Orion,  and  turneth  the  shadow 
of  death  into  the  morning."  And  from  Job  also, 
who  watched  these  bright  fires  from  the  plains 
or  hills  of  Palestine  :  "  Which  maketh  Arcturus, 
Orion,  and  Pleiades,  and  the  chambers  of  the 
south;  which  doeth  great  things  past  finding 
out;  yea,  and  wonders  without  number." 

At  this  time  of  the  year,  just  after  Christmas, 
Orion  was  well  up  in  the  heavens  and  could  be 
studied  to  advantage. 

"  What  is  that  nebula  made  of?  "  asked  Will. 

"  One  hardly  knows.  Perhaps  it  is  a  new 
solar  system  in  process  of  making,  or  perhaps  it 
consists  of  a  group  of  suns,  each  with  its  planets, 
systems  like  ours.  No  one  can  as  yet  find  out." 

"  What  do  you  mean,"  asked  Sam — "that 
worlds  are  being  made  nowadays?" 

"  Certainly;  why  not?  The  processes  of  dis 
solution  are  constantly  going  on,  and  also  the 
evolution  of  new  worlds.  You  have  an  instance 
of  decay  right  above  you." 

"The  Moon?" 


SAM  AND  JESSIG  AGREE.  1 67 

"  Precisely.  The  Moon,  so  to  speak,  has  seen 
better  days.  There  was  a  time  when  it  was 
covered  with  belching  volcanoes,  but  the  fires 
have  all  gone  out  and  it  is  now  simply  a  vast 
cinder.  Of  course  there  can  be  no  life  on  the 
Moon  any  more  than  there  could  be  on  a  huge 
lump  of  charcoal,  for  it  has  no  water  and  no  air, 
and  only  the  heat  which  the  Sun  bestows." 

During  January  they  made  the  acquaintance 
of  the  stars  which  precede  and  follow  Orion, 
beginning  with  the  Pleiades. 

"  How  many  stars  can  you  count  in  that 
group?  "  asked  Jessig. 

After  a  moment  Sophy  cried,  "  I  can  see 
eight." 

Will  thought  he  could  see  one  more  and  Sam 
insisted  that  he  could  see  ten. 

"That  is  a  good  test  for  the  eyesight,"  re 
marked  the  parson.  "  I  can  see  only  seven. 
Your  eyes  are  better  than  mine,  Sam,  and  appar 
ently  the  best  eyes  here,  for  ten  is  the  largest 
number  that  can  be  seen  without  a  glass." 


1 68  THE  FARMER  AND    THE  LORD. 

"  How  many  are  there  really?  "  asked  Molly 
Pullman,  who  was  the  silent  member  of  the  class. 

"  Well,  it  is  impossible  to  say.  You  see  eight, 
Sam  sees  ten.  Galileo  had  a  telescope  with  an 
objective  hardly  larger  than  the  glass  in  a  pair 
of  spectacles,  and  he  managed  to  get  a  glimpse 
of  more  than  forty,  while  the  big  telescopes  of 
the  present  day  reveal  between  six  and  seven 
hundred." 

"  Look  here,  Mr.  Jessig,"  exclaimed  Sam,  "  it 
seems  to  me  that  there  is  a  good  deal  more  in  the 
universe  that  we  can't  see  than  what  we  can  see." 

"Oh  yes;  we  can  see  very  little  indeed.  I 
have  read,  for  instance,  that  with  the  naked  eye 
we  can  see  not  more  than  three  thousand  sep 
arate  stars." 

"  Three  thousand !  "  exclaimed  Molly.  "  Why 
look  at  them!  I  thought  I  could  see  about  a 
million." 

"  No,  Molly,  you  can't ;  and  if  you  will  spend 
half  an  hour  in  counting  you  will  discover  that 
your  estimate  is  altogether  too  large." 


SAM  AND  JESSIG  AGREE.  169 

"  Well,  with  the  telescope  how  many  ?  "  asked 
Will 

"  That  depends.  With  a  small  telescope  like 
this — well,  let  me  think.  Professor  Ball  says 
that — yes,  I  recall  the  figures  now — that  with  a 
three-inch  object-glass  you  ought  to  see  nearly 
three  hundred  and  fifty  thousand  on  a  good 
night." 

"  Great  Scott !  "  cried  Sam.  "  Three  thousand 
with  the  naked  eye,  and  three  hundred  and  fifty 
thousand  with  that  little  glass!  Why,  we  are 
pretty  nearly  blind,  aren't  we?  We  don't  see 
much  of  anything.  Now  tell  me,  Mr.  Jessig,  how 
many  stars  can  a  man  see  with  the  best  glass  in 
the  world?" 

"The  number  is  rather  startling,"  answered 
Jessig.  "  I  shall  have  to  quote  from  Professor 
Ball  once  more.  I  was  looking  up  that  subject 
this  afternoon,  and  he  says  that  the  best  tele 
scopes  will  reveal  at  least  fifty  million  stars." 

"  And  that  number  doesn't  cover  all  there 
are?" 


i;O          THE  FARMER  AND    THE  LORD. 

"  By  no  means.  No  one  can  place  a  limit  to 
the  number.  Space  is  infinite,  that  is,  illimit 
able,  and  throughout  all  space  are  stars.  It  is 
a  wonderful  and  most  majestic  subject  to  think 
about.  But  remember  one  thing  more :  a  star 
does  not  mean  a  planet.  There,  for  instance, 
just  below  the  Pleiades,  is  Aldebaran,  and  there, 
beyond  the  belt  of  Orion,  is  that  almost  terrible 
orb,  Sirius.  Now  these,  and  for  that  matter 
every  other  star  in  the  heavens,  is  a  sun,  the  cen 
ter  of  a  whole  system.  They  have  about  them 
probably  a  larger  or  smaller  group  of  satellites, 
just  as  our  Sun  has  Mercury  and  Mars  and  the 
Earth  and  Jupiter  and  so  on,  only  the  distance  is 
so  great  that  no  telescope  will  ever  fetch  them." 

"What!  every  star  that  I  see,"  exclaimed 
Will,  "  is  the  center  of  a  whole  system  like 
ours?" 

"  Precisely ;  and  some  of  these  systems  are 
much  larger  than  ours,  while  others  are  possibly 
smaller." 

And  so  the  time  sped  on.     When  February 


SAM  AND  JESSIG  AGREE.  171 

and  March  and  April  came,  the  old  familiar  con 
stellations  disappeared  one  by  one,  sinking  so 
low  in  the  west  as  to  be  invisible,  and  others 
came  into  view. 

Now  Jessig's  objective  point  was  not  instruc 
tion  in  astronomy,  but  the  reformation  of  Sam 
Tomkins.  Astronomy  was  merely  incidental ; 
agreeable,  even  delightful,  but  purely  incidental, 
the  means  to  an  end.  And  Jessig  was  a  jovial 
creature,  and  knew  how  to  be  young  with  the 
young,  a  secret  of  influence  which  most  ministers 
have  not  yet  learned.  There  are  few  men  who 
have  tact  enough  to  be  boys  when  occasion  re 
quires  and  still  retain  their  dignity,  but  Jessig 
was  a  master  of  the  art.  During  that  whole 
winter  religion  was  mentioned  only  in  the  most 
casual  way.  He  preferred  to  let  the  scholars 
draw  their  own  deductions,  and  to  formulate 
their  own  ideas  as  to  whether  this  complicated 
universe  is  the  result  of  chance  or  the  workman 
ship  of  a  Creator. 

A  bit  of  gossip  came  to  Jessig's  ears  one  day 


THE  FARMER  AND    THE  LORD. 


which  mightily  encouraged  him.  Some  one  over 
heard  a  conversation,  and  naturally  reported  it. 

Sam,  it  seems,  had  been  sent  to  the  hotel  on 
a  trivial  matter  of  business.  On  the  piazza  he 
was  confronted  by  the  two  city  fellows. 

"  Well,  old  boy,  what  in  the  world  have  you 
been  about?  We  haven't  seen  your  royal  coun 
tenance  for  weeks.  I  thought  you  were  at  least 
dead." 

"  But  you  didn't  take  the  trouble  to  inquire," 
grunted  Sam. 

"  Where  have  you  been,  my  dear  fellow?" 

"Busy." 

"  Well,  we've  missed  you  sadly.  Good  times 
we  had,  didn't  we  ?  Come  along,  old  pal,  we'll 
have  a  drink  to  celebrate  this  happy  meeting." 

"  Not  much!"  replied  Sam  sturdily. 

"What!  have  you  turned  milksop,  Sam?" 

"  Not  exactly,  but  I've  got  something  more 
important  to  attend  to." 

"  Oh,  reformed,  have  you  ?  "  and  the  speaker 
broke  into  a  laugh.  "Well,  I  shall  try  that 


SAM  AND  JESSIG  AGREE.  173 

myself  some  day,  but  not  just  yet,  I  reckon. 
Come  along,  my  dear  fellow,"  and  he  took  Sam 
by  the  arm,  "  and  have  a  swallow  in  memory  of 
old  times." 

Sam  shook  his  head.  "  No,  can't  do  it.  Been 
a  fool  once,  and  don't  propose  to  play  that  game 
any  longer,"  and  he  moved  away. 

When  Jessig  heard  that  he  said  to  himself, 
"  Hiram  Golf  was  a  very  wise  man.  It  is  the 
music  of  Orpheus  which  does  the  business  after 
all.  Ulysses  had  to  be  tied  to  the  mast,  but  Sam 
has  learned  a  song  sweeter  than  anything  the 
sirens  can  sing.  The  boy  has  been  saved,  and 
the  shoemaker  has  had  a  hand  in  the  work." 

Two  things  happened  in  the  spring,  just  be 
fore  the  class  broke  up,  which  I  must  speak  of 
in  detail. 

It  was  an  early  season,  and  the  farmers  were 
looking  their  fields  over.  There  was  a  general 
movement  in  the  neighborhood,  a  stir  prelimi 
nary  to  the  activity  which  was  soon  to  follow. 

Jessig  and  Sam  were  frequent  companions, 


174  THE  FARMER  AND    THE   LORD. 

and  had  become  very  fond  of  each  other.  On 
a  certain  occasion  when  they  were  on  the  tramp 
the  parson  saw  an  apple-tree,  on  the  lower 
branch  of  which  some  one  who  was  at  work 
near  by  had  hung  his  coat.  Jessig  was  prompt 
to  use  the  incident  to  find  out  what  state  of 
mind  Sam  was  in ;  so  as  they  sat  for  a  while 
astride  the  fence  to  rest,  he  said  in  jocose  vein : 

"  Hullo,  Sam,  I  didn't  know  that  frock-coats 
grew  on  apple-trees." 

"Nor  I  either,"  replied  the  boy,  with  a  chuckle. 
"  I  wonder  whom  it  belongs  to." 

"Nobody,  I  guess,"  continued  the  parson; 
"  I  rather  think  it  came  there  by  chance." 

"  Dropped  from  the  sky,  perhaps,"  remarked 
Sam. 

"  Come,  Sam,"  and  Jessig  grew  serious,  "  I'd 
like  to  argue  with  you  for  five  minutes  about 
that  coat." 

"  I  don't  see  much  room  for  argument ;  but 
still,  if  you  are  hankering  to  puzzle  me,  go  ahead. 
I  imagine  I  can  stand  it." 


SAM  AND  JESSIG  AGREE.  175 

"  Well,  to  begin  with,  did  you  ever  see  that 
coat  before?  " 

"  Of  course  not." 

"  Then  suppose  I  should  say  to  you  in  all 
earnestness  that  it  made  itself  and  hung  itself 
up  there,  what  would  you  answer?  " 

"  Pshaw!  I  shouldn't  think  the  question  was 
worth  an  answer.  The  man  who  could  say  that 
wouldn't  have  stuff  enough  in  him  to  make  a 
first-class  idiot." 

"  Yes ;  but  imagine  for  a  moment  that  I  am 
not  an  idiot,  and  that  I  believe  just  what  I  say 
when  I  assert  that  the  coat  came  there  of  itself, 
by  accident,  as  it  were :  how  would  you  go  to 
work  to  convince  me  that  I  was  mistaken?  " 

"  Are  you  in  sober  earnest,  or  are  you  jok- 
ing?" 

"  I  was  never  more  earnest  in  my  life,  Sam, 
and  I  want  you  to  proceed  with  the  discussion." 

"  Well,  to  start  with,  I  should  examine  the 
coat  and  satisfy  myself  that  it  was  a  real  coat." 

Jessig  nodded. 


176  THE   FARMER   AND    THE   LORD. 

"  Then  I  should  say  to  you, '  I  know  the  stuff 
this  thing  is  made  of.     It  was  once  on  a  sheep's 
back.'" 
'"Yes?" 

"  Somebody  must  have  sheared  that  sheep, 
and  carded  the  wool,  and  woven  it  into  cloth,  and 
cut  out  this  garment,  and  sewed  it  and  fitted  it 
for  the  use  to  which  it  has  been  put." 

"Yes?" 

"  It  was  evidently  intended  for  a  particular 
purpose,  and  the  man  who  made  it  had  that  pur 
pose  in  mind  when  he  worked  at  it.  It  wasn't 
intended  to  cover  a  horse,  because  it's  not  the 
right  shape,  and  it  was  intended  to  cover  a  man, 
because  there  are  the  arms  and  the  pockets  and 
the  buttons  and  buttonholes." 

"  You  think  that  good  reasoning,  Sam,  do 
you  ?  " 

"  Why,  certainly,  Mr.  Jessig.  You  can't  deny 
my  statements,  can  you  ?  " 

"  How  sure  are  you  that  you  are  not  mistaken, 
and  that  after  all  the  coat  grew  on  that  tree? 


SAM  AND  JESSIG  AGREE.  177 

What  would  you  wager  that  some  man  must 
have  made  the  coat?  " 

"Wager?  All  I've  got.  I'd  risk  my  life  on 
it." 

"  Good.  Now  let  me  see.  As  I  understand 
it,  you  argue  in  this  way  :  that  chance  can't  have 
any  definite  purpose,  and  if  anything  is  adapted 
to  a  definite  purpose  you  are  safe  in  saying  that 
somebody  adapted  it  to  that  purpose." 

"Certainly." 

"  In  other  words,  it  would  be  safe  to  say  of  a 
type-writing  machine,  for  instance,  that  matter — 
that  is,  iron,  brass,  wire,  and  ivory — couldn't  pos 
sibly  have  put  themselves  into  that  particular 
shape,  but  that  some  one,  outside  of  the  mate 
rials  used,  must  have  first  thought  out  the  ma 
chine  in  his  mind  and  then  put  the  iron  and 
brass  together  in  that  shape.  Is  that  what  you 
mean,  Sam?  " 

"Yes,  exactly,  Mr.  Jessig." 

"  And  would  you  apply  that  principle  to 
everything?  " 


I  78  THE   FARMER  AND    THE  LORD. 

"What  principle?" 

"  That  a  machine  which  accomplishes  a  given 
work  implies  a  maker  of  the  machine?  " 

"I  would,  assuredly." 

"  But  suppose  the  machine  was  a  very  big 
one,  Sam?  " 

"  Why,  the  size  of  the  machine  doesn't  affect 
the  argument,  does  it?  " 

"  That  is  for  you  to  say." 

"  I  don't  see  how  it  does.  On  the  other  hand, 
I  imagine  that  the  bigger  the  machine  the  bigger 
must  be  the  maker  of  it.  If  I  can  say  when  I 
examine  a  jack-knife  that  somebody  must  have 
made  it,  and  made  it  to  be  used  as  a  jack-knife, 
I  should  certainly  say  when  I  see  a  Corliss 
engine  that  somebody  planned  it  and  made  it. 
So  far  as  I  can  see,  the  bigger  the  machine  the 
stronger  the  argument." 

"  I  think  you  are  quite  right,  Sam.  Now  sup 
pose  you  take  the  next  step.  We  have  been 
studying  astronomy  all  winter.  We  have  seen 
that  infinite  space  is  filled  with  an  infinite  num- 


SAM  AND  JESSIG  AGREE.  179 

her  of  worlds.  These  huge  systems  are  all  gov 
erned  by  the  same  law,  the  law  of  attraction,  and 
this  law  keeps  them  in  their  respective  places. 
The  heavens  are  a  boundless  exposition  room, 
in  which  the  most  complicated  machinery  is  ex 
hibited  on  a  large  scale.  Purpose  is  evident 
everywhere.  Tell  me,  Sam,  if  the  type-writing 
machine  can't  make  itself  but  must  be  made, 
can —  " 

"  Stop  right  there,  Mr.  Jessig ;  I  was  a  little 
blind  at  first,  but  I  see  now  what  you  have  been 
driving  at.  I  may  as  well  tell  you  that  after  the 
class  had  met  two  or  three  times  and  we  fairly 
got  into  the  subject  I  was  a  good  deal  bothered. 
You  know  that  father  is  a  peculiar  man,  good  as 
gold,  and  the  kindest  father  in  the  world ;  but 
he  has  his  pet  ideas,  and  I  was  brought  up  on 
them.  But  when  I  made  that  slip — you  know 
what  I  mean,  Mr.  Jessig,  don't  you?  " 

"Yes,  yes,  Sam,  I  know;  but  it  only  lasted 
for  a  few  months,  and  you've  got  bravely  over 
it,  my  friend." 


ISO  THE   FARMER   AND    THE  LORD. 

"  Yes,  Mr.  Jessig,  I  have  got  over  it,  and  I 
don't  think  you  need  have  any  fear  for  me. 
Well,  when  I  came  to  think  about  matters  after 
that  experience  I  saw  that  you  religious  people 
have  something  or  other  which  holds  you  back, 
while  I  simply  had  something  which  pushed  me 
on.  It  seemed  to  me  at  the  time  that  if  I  was 
right  and  you  people  were  all  wrong,  it  would 
be  better  for  me  to  adopt  your  wrong  ideas  if 
they  would  make  a  man  of  me  than  to  stick  to 
my  own  rigid  ideas  if  they  were  going  to  make 
a  fool  of  me." 

Jessig  sat  very  still,  and  listened  with  all  his 
soul. 

"Well,  then,  up  on  that  piazza  where  we 
passed  so  many  evenings  it  came  to  me  that, 
after  all,  this  universe  must  have  been  arranged 
and  must  be  directed  by  what  we  call  brains, 
and  a  good  deal  of  them.  I  couldn't  get  away 
from  it,  and  the  longer  we  studied  the  more  con 
vinced  I  was.  I  have  not  mentioned  this  change 
of  base  to  father,  for — dear  old  man — he  is 


SAM  AND  JESSIG  AGREE.  l8l 

awfully  set  in  his  opinions ;  and  I  haven't  said 
anything  to  Mary  and  mother  either.  This  is 
the  first  time  I've  talked  about  the  matter,  and 
you've  kind  of  drawn  it  out  of  me.  I  hope  you 
don't  think  me  weak-minded,  Mr.  Jessig,  in 
turning  right  about  face  in  this  way." 

"  Sam,"  said  Jessig,  in  a  voice  full  of  feeling, 
"  if  a  fellow  wakes  up  to  the  fact  that  the  road 
he  is  traveling  is  not  going  to  lead  him  to  the 
place  he  wants  to  go  to,  he  is  both  brave  and 
wise  if  he  turns  right  about  and  goes  the  other 
way." 

Then  they  resumed  their  walk,  and  when  they 
reached  Farmer  Tomkins's  house  Lije  happened 
to  see  them,  and  in  his  cheery  way  hailed  the 
parson  and  invited  him  to  come  in  and  have 
supper. 

The  second  incident  is  equally  interesting, 
and  I  record  it  with  equal  pleasure. 

I  have  already  intimated  that  the  estrange 
ment  between  Sam  and  Sophy  was  due  entirely 
to  the  boy's  bad  habits.  Sophy  didn't  believe 


1 82  THE   FARMER  AND    THE  LORD. 

in  marrying  a  man  with  the  hope  of  reforming 
him  afterward.  She  used  to  say  that  if  a  man 
couldn't  control  himself  as  a  lover  he  would 
never  control  himself  as  a  husband,  and  I  am 
inclined  to  think  she  was  right.  That  she  loved 
him  was  beyond  question,  and  that  the  love  was 
fully  returned  could  not  be  doubted ;  but  Sophy 
held  herself  with  entire  dignity  during  the  even 
ing  sessions,  and  Sam  was  too  humiliated  to  at 
tempt  any  advances.  Jessig  caught  him  look 
ing  at  her  now  and  again  as  though  she  were  a 
goddess  who  had  strayed  from  Olympus,  but 
he  maintained  a  perfectly  blank  expression,  as 
though  he  were  near-sighted  and  saw  nothing. 
He  also  noticed  that  Sophy  eyed  Sam  very 
anxiously  during  the  first  two  months,  but  after 
that  had  settled  down  into  a  feeling  of  security. 
One  night  that  little  imp  of  a  fellow,  Sophy's 
brother,  went  to  a  panoramic  show  at  the  town 
hall,  but  faithfully  promised  to  call  for  her  at  the 
usual hourof dismissal.  Of coursehedidn'tcome, 
and  for  my  part  I  am  very  grateful  to  him. 


SAM  AND  JESSIG  AGREE.  183 

How  to  get  home  was  the  question,  for  the 
other  members  lived  in  an  opposite  direction. 
Jessig,  partly  I  think  by  way  of  jest,  said  quietly  : 

"  Why,  Sophy,  Sam  will  be  glad — "  but  he 
didn't  get  any  further  with  the  sentence. 

"Oh  no,  no,  Mr.  Jessig.  Please  don't;  I 
couldn't  possibly  allow  it." 

Her  cheeks  flushed  crimson. 

"  All  right,  my  dear,  I  will  go  with  you  my 
self.  Just  wait  till  I  get  my  coat  from  the  back 
room  and  I'll  be  ready.  I  haven't  had  much 
exercise  to-day,  and  should  like  the  tramp." 

So  the  parson  disappeared. 

Sam,  however,  had  been  pondering  that  mat 
ter  for  an  hour.  He  hardly  dared  to  ask  her, 
for  if  she  refused  it  would  be  dreadful.  And 
yet  she  might  not  refuse.  There  was  a  good 
deal  of  risk  in  it,  but  he  concluded  to  take  it. 

So  it  happened  that  when  Jessig  disappeared 
Sam  came  to  the  fore. 

"  Your  brother  isn't  here,  Sophy?  " 

"No;  but  it's  all  right,  Sam." 


1 84  THE   FARMER   AND    THE  LORD. 

"  Will  you  let  me  see  you  home,  Sophy?  " 

"Oh,  I  couldn't  trouble  you.  No,  indeed! 
why,  I  would  as  lief  as  not  go  alone." 

"  Possibly ;  but  still  it  is  pleasanter  to  have 
company,  Sophy,"  and  there  was  a  certain  plead 
ing  in  his  tones  which  was  irresistible. 

"  Perhaps  I  oughtn't  to,  Sam,"  she  said,  with 
a  kind  of  desperation. 

"  Well,  of  course  if  you  prefer  not  to  have 
me —  " 

"  It  isn't  that,  Sam.  You  know  well  enough 
—you  ought  to  know — oh  dear,  I  don't  know 
what  I'm  saying." 

"  Then  " — and  he  spoke  in  a  whisper — "  then 
say  yes,  Sophy." 

She  hesitated  an  instant. 

"  If  I'm  not  troubling  you  too  much,  Sam." 

So  it  was  settled  ;  and  when  Jessig  came  back 
and  saw  that  he  wasn't  needed  he  cried  out  in  a 
jolly  voice,  "  All  right,  Sam.  I  see  you've  cut 
me  out,  you  rogue.  Good-night." 

That  was  the  way  the  reconciliation  began. 


SAM  AND  JESS1G  AGREE.  185 

From  that  night  Sam  and  Sophy  seemed  to  be 
pretty  nearly  on  the  old  terms.  They  sat  side 
by  side  during  the  meetings,  and  when  in  April 
it  was  announced  that  they  were  to  be  married 
in  the  autumn,  Jessig  said,  "  Sam  is  a  splendid 
boy,  and  will  make  a  splendid  man.  He  only 
tripped,  but  didn't  fall,  and  will  never  stumble 
again.  As  for  Sophy,  well,  next  to  my  own 
wife  I  think  her  the  prettiest  and  best  girl  in 
the  village.  They  will  make  a  fine  couple." 


X. 


A    SLIGHT  ACCIDENT. 

You  have  never  been  chestnutting?  Then 
I  am  sorry  for  you,  for  you  have  missed  one  of 
the  most  hilarious  pleasures  of  youth. 

A  picnic  in  summer  is  well  enough  in  its  way. 
Boys  and  girls  can  have  a  good  time  under  any 
circumstances,  but  the  summer  picnic  has  its 
drawbacks.  In  the  first  place,  the  chances  are 
ten  to  one  that  the  heat  will  be  scorching  and 
the  breeze  will  die  down,  leaving  most  of  the 
company  to  gasp  for  breath.  I  don't  know  that 
the  sun  and  wind  have  any  special  aversion  to 
such  gala-days,  but  I  have  noticed  that  the  fires 
of  the  one  are  hotter  than  ever,  as  though  a  big 
lump  of  coal  had  suddenly  dropped  into  the  fur 
nace,  and  that  the  wind  grows  sullen  and  sits  in 
1 86 


A    SLIGHT  ACCIDENT.  187 

a  corner  so  still  that  you  would  think  there  could 
never  be  a  breeze  again.  Then,  in  the  second 
place,  every  created  insect  seems  to  become 
unusually  industrious,  and,  without  intending  it, 
of  course,  does  all  it  can  to  make  the  occasion 
memorably  disagreeable. 

But  chestnutting  is  a  very  different  affair. 
The  bugs  have  gone  to  sleep  to  dream  of  spring ; 
the  breezes  are  sharp,  crisp,  and  bracing,  and 
make  a  peculiar  music  as  they  blow  through  the 
trees,  and,  bearing  the  leaves  away,  scatter  them 
over  the  ground ;  the  hardy  wild  aster  still 
holds  its  own  in  purple  beauty,  and  the  royal 
golden-rod  nods  its  resignation  to  approaching 
fate. 

You  needn't  start  until  after  the  first  frost, 
for  that  is  the  magician  who  splits  the  burrs  wide 
open,  showing  the  brown  treasures  within,  loos 
ens  the  stem  that  holds  them  to  the  branches, 
and  drops  them  one  by  one  into  the  lap  of 
earth. 

There  were  ten  boys  and  girls,  all  neighbors 


1 88  THE  FARMER  AND    THE  LORD. 

of  Farmer  Tomkins,  who  had  agreed  to  make 
the  trip  into  the  woods  a  dozen  miles  away  at 
the  earliest  opportunity,  and  when  that  October 
morning  shone  it  seemed  as  though  it  had  come 
straight  from  heaven.  The  fields  were  white 
with  a  thin  covering  of  hoar-frost,  which  quickly 
melted  when  the  sun  peeped  at  it  from  the  moun 
tain-top  over  yonder.  A  tranquil  day,  "  the 
bridal  of  the  earth  and  sky,"  as  George  Herbert 
sang  two  centuries  and  a  half  ago.  The  old  elm 
in  front  of  Lije's  cottage,  whose  branches  spread 
fifty  feet  each  way  from  the  trunk,  was  as  quiet 
as  if  every  leaf  were  still  asleep,  and  all  nature 
— sky,  clouds,  river,  and  woods — was  calm  and 
peaceful,  full  of  benediction.  You  could  hardly 
look  on  the  scene  without  saying,  "  The  heavens 
declare  the  glory  of  God;  and  the  firmament 
showeth  His  handiwork." 

The  little  party  got  off  soon  after  breakfast — 
not  a  city  breakfast,  but  the  breakfast  of  the  coun 
try.  There  were  two  wagon  loads  of  precious 
humanity  in  its  halcyon  days,  one  driven  by  Sam 


A    SLIGHT  ACCIDENT.  189 

and  the  other  by  George,  the  son  of  Rastus. 
Sam  and  Sophy,  you  remember,  were  betrothed, 
and  were  to  be  married  a  month  or  so  later  on. 
George  and  Mary,  the  Mary  of  the  household  of 
Lije,  were  not  exactly  engaged,  but  there  was, 
in  the  language  of  the  locality,  an  understand 
ing  between  them.  George  had  a  large  heart, 
and  long  ago  he  gave  the  whole  of  it  to  Mary 
Tomkins. 

What  a  jolly  trip  that  was !  The  young  rois 
terers  made  the  welkin  ring  with  their  merriment, 
and,  as  you  know  if  you  are  in  middle  life,  there 
is  nothing  half  so  wonderful  or  attractive  as  the 
animal  spirits  of  healthy  country  boys  and  girls. 
Such  laughter  and  chaffing  and  teasing! 

Into  the  woods  they  went,  and  then  began  the 
scramble  for  nuts,  the  rivalry  to  get  the  largest 
measure. 

"  Oh,  how  horrid  it  is! "  exclaimed  Sally  Ed 
wards. 

"  What  is  it?"  cried  Ed,  who  had  been  as 
signed  as  her  partner,  "  a  rattler,  a  hobgoblin? 


IQO          THE   FARMER  AND    THE   LORD. 

Then  I'll  be  'Jack  the  Giant-killer/"  and  he 
hurried  to  her  side. 

"The  burr!  Just  look  at  my  hand;  it's  full 
of  the  needles.  And,  ugh!  how  they  hurt!" 

It  is  wonderful  how  long  it  took  Ed  to  get  all 
those  needles  out  of  Sally's  hand.  He  worked 
away  with  untiring  energy,  and  with  more 
patience  than  the  occasion  seemed  to  require, 
until  at  last  Sally  said,  "  That  will  do,  Ed. 
Come,  let's  hurry  up  and  get  with  the  company. 
Don't  you  see  they've  strayed  away,  and  as  like 
as  not  they  have  been  laughing  at  us?  " 

"Well,"  replied  Ed  meekly,  "if  they  enjoy 
themselves  in  their  way,  I  guess  I've  had  a  good 
time  in  my  way  too." 

I  think  there  was  additional  color  in  Sally's 
cheeks,  but  at  any  rate  they  rejoined  the  nutters 
and  were  not  disturbed  by  their  good-natured 
twittering. 

"Say,  Mary,"  whispered  George,  "  I  know  a 
tree  that  last  year  was  the  best  bearer  of  the  lot. 
Will  you  come?  " 


A    SLIGHT  ACCIDENT.  191 

"Is  it  far?" 

"  No,  no,  not  more  than  thirty  rods  from 
here.  It's  right  on  the  other  side  of  that  hil 
lock.  Let's  slip  away,  will  you?  " 

"Yes,  George,  I'll  go;  but  we'd  better  tell 
the  rest." 

"What!  tell  them  that  we've  found  a  bon 
anza?  Don't  you  do  it,  Mary." 

"Not  that;  but  just  say  in  an  offhand  way 
that  we  are  going  to  prospect.  Perhaps,  though, 
it  isn't  necessary." 

So  off  the  couple  went,  and  it  was  soon  evi 
dent  that  George's  prediction  was  correct.  It 
was  a  huge  tree,  and  the  ground  was  simply 
covered. 

"  Isn't  it  splendid?  "  cried  Mary  enthusiastic 
ally,  and  then  she  added  impulsively,  "  I  wish 
they  were  all  here." 

"I  don't;  you  bet  I  don't,"  and  George's 
voice  showed  that  he  felt  wounded. 

"Oh  dear,  I  am  so  unfortunate!  I  didn't 
mean  what  you  think  I  meant,  George.  I  like 


1 92  THE  FARMER   AND    THE   LORD. 

to  be  alone  with  you,  and  you  know  it.  You 
don't  want  me  to  keep  telling  you  that,  dear 
boy,  do  you?  I  was  only  thinking  that  there 
is  enough  here  for  the  whole  company,  and  just 
said  impulsively  that  I  wished  they  were  here. 
Don't  you  understand?" 

"  Yes,  I  suppose  I  do ;  but  I  can  tell  you  one 
thing,  Mary,  I'm  not  as  unselfish  as  you  are.  I 
wish  there  wasn't  a  human  being  within  a  thou 
sand  miles  of  us,  and  we  should  have  to  walk 
the  whole  thousand  miles  together  at  the  rate  of 
a  mile  a  day  to  get  home  again." 

She  couldn't  conceal  her  pleasure  at  George's 
ardor,  but  she  crimsoned  when  he  said,  "  You're 
a  saint,  Mary,  and  sometimes  I  don't  feel  worthy 
to  touch  you  with  the  tips  of  my  fingers." 

"  Hush,  George,"  and  she  put  her  hand  play 
fully  over  his  mouth ;  but  he  simply  managed 
to  kiss  the  hand  until  she  took  it  away,  saying, 
"  I  fear  you  are  a  naughty  boy,  George;"  and 
then  by  an  irresistible  impulse  he  caught  her  in 
his  arms  and  kissed  her  lips  again  and  again. 


A    SLIGHT  ACCIDENT.  193 

Now  let  me  state,  for  it  is  a  historic  fact,  that 
Mary  was  not  indignant.  The  relation  between 
the  two,  a  relation  of  perfect  respect  and  confi 
dence,  was  such  that  the  liberty  which  George 
took  was  not  remarkable.  Still,  Mary  thought 
it  time  to  end  the  interview,  and  said  rather 
pertly,  "  There !  you  have  done  enough  for  one 
day,  sir;  altogether  too  much,  perhaps.  Now 
just  go  to  the  top  of  that  hillock  and  halloo  to 
the  others.  They  might  as  well  gather  these 
chestnuts,  for  you  have  done  nothing  of  the 
kind." 

"  I've  been  about  better  business,"  replied 
George,  with  a  chuckle.  "  Still,  I  guess  you're 
right,  Mary,"  and  in  a  minute  he  was  on  the 
hillock  hallooing  at  the  top  of  his  voice. 

The  time  passed  quickly,  as  it  always  does 
when  one  is  pleasantly  occupied.  And,  by  the 
way,  do  you  know  what  I  would  have  done  if  I 
had  made  the  world  ?  I  would  have  so  arranged 
affairs  that  happiness  should  seem  long  and  mis 
ery  should  seem  short.  As  it  is,  the  days  are 


194  TIIE   MXM£X   ^'/;    '1'H£   LORD. 

little  eternities  when  we  are  unhappy,  and  sun 
down  is  miles  on  miles  away ;  but  what  little 
things  the  days  are  when  you  are  enjoying  your 
self!  The  hours  fly  like  crows,  oh,  so  slowly, 
if  you  are  suffering,  but  they  go  with  the  speed 
of  humming-birds  when  you  are  in  such  merry 
mood  that  you  wish  they  would  linger.  It's  all 
right  as  it  is,  of  course,  but  we  cannot  help  pon 
dering  these  peculiarities,  and  wondering  why 
things  are  just  as  they  are. 

About  the  middle  of  the  afternoon  Sam  sug 
gested  that  the  party  get  ready  to  go  home. 

"  Let's  never  go  home,"  cried  Sally.  "We'll 
turn  ourselves  into  fairies,  and  build  our  palace 
right  here." 

"  I'm  willing,"  muttered  Ed  under  his  breath, 
so  that  she  alone  might  hear. 

"That's  all  very  well,"  remarked  George, 
"and  I'd  like  to  be  a  first-class  fairy  myself; 
but  it's  going  to  be  a  chilly  ride  over  the  hills, 
and  we  shall  be  glad  to  get  near  the  fire  by 
sunset;  I  think  we'd  better  be  off.  Come,  girls, 


A    SLIGHT  ACCIDENT.  195 

pack  up  your  dishes,  and  we  boys  will  lug  the 
chestnuts." 

"  You  are  an  old  tyrant,  George.  What  an 
awful  husband  you'll  make  some  day!"  cried 
Sally,  in  an  assumed  pet.  "  Don't  you  think  so, 
Mary  ?  I  am  really  greatly  troubled  about  your 
future,"  and  such  a  merry  laugh  followed  that 
all  joined  in. 

They  took  a  different  path  out  of  the  woods, 
and  after  a  while  came  to  a  brook.  It  was  not 
more  than  six  or  eight  feet  across,  a  muddy 
brook,  such  as  drains  a  meadow. 

"  Hullo,  what's  this?" 

"Well,  it  isn't  the  Mississippi,  I  guess." 

"  Perhaps ;  but  it  might  as  well  be  if  we  can't 
get  across  it." 

"  We  boys  will  wade  and  carry  the  girls  on 
our  backs." 

"  Let's  prospect.  Oh,  we're  all  right.  Don't 
you  see  that  log  across  up  there?  Hurry  up, 
now." 

"  No,  Ed,  you  shall  not  help  me,"  said  Sally. 


196  THE  FARMER  AND    THE  LORD. 

"  I  believe  I  could  walk  on  a  tight  rope,  and  a 
little  thing  like  this  can't  faze  me.  No,  no,  you 
stand  aside.  I  won't  take  your  hand.  Do  you 
hear?" 

She  balanced  herself  skilfully,  and  in  half  a 
minute  was  on  the  other  side. 

"  Why,  it's  just  nothing  at  all.  Try  it,  girls, 
all  of  you.  Don't  you  dare  to?  " 

Sophy  made  the  next  attempt,  and  as  there 
were  only  half  a  dozen  steps  to  take  she  made 
the  passage  with  ease. 

"  A  country  girl  who  can't  cross  a  brook  on 
a  dry  log  ought  to  go  to  the  city  to  live,"  cried 
Will. 

"  You'd  better  let  me  take  your  hand,  Mary," 
George  said  as  her  turn  came ;  but  she  was  in 
high  spirits  and  disdained  assistance. 

I  don't  know  how  it  happened — one  never 
knows  why  accidents  occur — but  when  she 
reached  the  middle  of  the  log  her  foot  slipped, 
and  in  an  instant  she  was  up  to  her  knees  in  the 
cold  water. 


A    SLIGHT  ACCIDENT.  197 

Both  George  and  Sam  rushed  to  her  aid,  and 
one  of  them  caught  her  or  she  would  have  fallen ; 
with  a  laugh,  however,  she  waded  ashore. 

"How  stupid  of  me!"  she  exclaimed,  with 
chagrin. 

Both  feet  were  soaked,  of  course,  and  her 
dress  was  very  wet. 

"Why,  it's  nothing,"  she  said  lightly.  "A 
bath  won't  hurt  me,  I  imagine." 

"Let's  go  up  to  the  farm-house,"  suggested 
Sophy.  "  You'll  dry  off  in  half  an  hour.  I 
wouldn't  take  the  ride  home  in  clothes  wring 
ing  wet,  Mary.  It  isn't  safe.  You'll  be  sure  to 
catch  cold." 

"  No,  I'll  do  nothing  of  the  kind,  girls.  I'm 
perfectly  comfortable,  I  tell  you.  I  rather  like 
it.  It's  an  adventure,  you  know,  just  like  what 
we  read  of  in  the  books.  I'm  the  rescued  maiden, 
all  forlorn.  How  in  the  world  do  you  suppose 
I  slipped,  though?  Come  along;  don't  mind 
me." 

When    they    got    into    the    wagons    George 


198  THE  FARMER  AND    THE  LORD. 

wrapped  an  extra  blanket  round  Mary  to  keep 
off  the  chill  wind. 

"  I  feel  like  an  Indian  papoose,  George,  and 
you  are  the  '  brave '  who  takes  care  of  me. 
There!  thank  you  very  much.  Oh  yes,  I'm 
perfectly  comfortable." 

"  I  wish  you  had  gone  into  the  farm-house 
and  stood  by  the  fire  for  a  while." 

"  Nonsense !  Don't  worry,  you  dear  boy.  I 
can  stand  a  little  water  without  danger,  I  guess. 
Now  just  get  into  your  seat  and  start." 

They  were  all  jolly  during  the  first  part  of 
the  drive,  but  when  the  sun  crept  down  near  the 
western  hilltops  on  the  other  side  of  the  Chero 
kee  the  air  became  nipping  and  the  whole  party 
were  silent.  They  had  had  a  hilarious  day,  and 
a  degree  of  reaction  from  the  high  spirits  of  the 
morning  was  natural. 

"  All  right,  Mary?"  This  from  the  back 
seat. 

"  Yes,  I  think  so ;  but  I  shall  be  glad  to  get 
home." 


A    SLIGHT  ACCIDENT.  199 

"You  are  cold,  aren't  you?"  whispered 
George. 

"  Just  a  bit;  but  please  don't  tell  the  others." 

"Can't  I  put  another  blanket  round  you? 
See,  here's  one." 

"  No,  no ;  it's  only  a  couple  of  miles  farther, 
and  then  I'll  toast  myself  by  the  fire ;  but  you 
might  drive  a  little  faster,  George."  Then  she 
broke  into  a  quiet  little  laugh  and  said,  "  I  almost 
think  the  marrow  in  my  bones  is  congealing." 

When  they  reached  Lije's  the  other  wagon 
drove  by  at  a  sharp  trot,  and  the  girls  cried, 
"  Good-by,  Mary.  Had  a  splendid  time,  haven't 
we?  A  warm  supper  will  do  you  good." 

The  mother  saw  the  plight  that  Mary  was  in, 
and  at  once  hurried  the  child  to  her  room,  where 
she  put  on  a  change  of  clothing  and  then  returned 
to  the  kitchen. 

"  My  feet  are  like  ice,  mother.  I  didn't  know 
I  could  be  so  cold." 

"Yes,  I  know.  There!  slip  your  shoes  off 
an'  put  your  feet  right  into  the  oven.  The  fire 


2OO  THE   FARMER  AND    THE  LORD. 

is  down,  an'  you  won't  find  it  too  hot.  No,  you 
mustn't  come  to  the  table.  I'll  bring  you  your 
supper,  an'  then  you'll  feel  better.  Before  you 
go  to  bed  I'll  make  a  nice  cup  of  catnip  tea  with 
a  dash  of  pennyroyal  in  it,  an'  that  will  set  you 
to  rights.  Dear  me,  I  wish  you  hadn't  been 
careless,  Mary.  You  can't  do  what  other  girls 
can." 

"I  thought  I  could,  mother;  but  you  see  I 
slipped.  The  log  must  have  been  wet." 

Lije  came  in  from  the  barn.  "  Well,  darter, 
had  a  good  day?  Why,  what's  up?  Feet  in 
the  oven?  Well,  the  air  is  nippin',  an'  I  don't 
wonder." 

"  She  fell  off  a  log  into  the  water,"  and  that 
was  all  Samanthy  could  say,  for  somehow  her 
heart  was  heavy. 

"  Oh  well,  didn't  break  nothin',  did  you?  A 
little  water  won't  do  any  harm.  But  you 
oughtn't  to  have  driv'  home  without  gettin' 
dried  off.  I  guess  a  good  night's  sleep  will  set 
you  straight,  though,  Mary,"  and  Lije  took  his 


A    SLIGHT  ACCIDENT.  2OI 

place  at  the  table  and  began  to  tell  the  news  of 
the  day  on  the  farm. 

The  human  system  is  a  very  curious  and  puz 
zling  contrivance.  You  have  noticed,  perhaps — 
if  you  are  the  father  of  a  family,  you  have  cer 
tainly  done  so — that  sometimes  the  most  trifling 
accident  becomes  serious,  while  at  other  times 
what  appears  to  be  the  most  serious  accident 
turns  out  to  be  trifling.  Why  is  this  so  ?  I  con 
fess  I  don't  know  anything  about  it.  We  seem 
to  be  physically  a  series  of  doors.  When  these 
doors  are  shut — and  no  one  can  tell  what  shuts 
them — all  sorts  of  diseases  may  knock  but  they 
can't  enter,  and  a  man  will  go  through  a  thou 
sand  perils  unscathed.  Then  again  the  doors 
appear  to  be  all  open — but  what  opens  them  is 
beyond  our  ken — and  then  ailments  cross  the 
threshold  and  we  fall  on  sickness. 

Mary  felt  languid  all  through  that  winter. 
There  was  nothing  specially  the  matter  with  her 
apparently,  but  she  had  no  enthusiasms.  She 
was  heavy  and  listless,  and  ordinary  duties  were 


202          THE  FARMER  AND    THE   LORD. 

a  burden.  Worse  than  all,  she  became  strangely 
reticent,  and  that  made  a  great  change  in  the 
household,  for  she  had  always  been  the  life  of 
the  family  circle.  She  was  depressed,  and  her 
eyes  lacked  the  sparkle  of  other  times,  as  her 
cheeks  lacked  their  ruddiness. 

"  I  don't  believe  I'll  go  to  the  village  to-day, 
mother." 

The  mother  looked  at  her,  and  the  unusual 
pallor  nearly  broke  her  heart. 

"  Don't  you  think  it  would  do  you  good  to 
perk  up  a  little,  dear?  Sam  is  goin'  to  try  that 
new  colt,  an'  wants  you  to  go  with  him." 

"Don't  ask  me,  mother;  I  feel  tired.  Just 
see  the  frost  on  the  window-panes.  It  must  be 
dreadfully  cold  outside,  and  I  feel  as  though  I 
should  never  be  warm  again.  When  the  win 
ter  is  over  and  the  grass  gets  green  I  shall  be 
like  myself  again,  but  I  can't  do  anything  now 
except  sit  by  the  stove." 

Samanthy  didn't  urge  her,  but  as  she  went 
about  her  housework  she  sighed. 


A    SLIGHT  ACCIDENT.  203 

"  I'm  sorry  I  can't  help  you,  mother,"  Mary 
added.  "  I  guess  I'm  getting  to  be  a  useless 
sort  of  creature,  and  I  wonder  why."  Then  she 
looked  out  of  the  window  on  the  drifting  snow. 

It  was  a  long  time  before  Lije  appreciated  the 
difference  between  the  Mary  of  that  time  and  the 
Mary  of  other  days.  He  kept  thinking  that  she 
had  an  ordinary  cold  and  would  get  over  it  in  a 
little  while ;  but  when  the  holidays  had  all  gone 
by  and  she  still  dreaded  to  go  out  of  doors  he 
began  to  think  seriously  of  her  condition. 

One  day  when  Samanthy  arid  Lije  were  alone 
in  the  kitchen  he  said : 

"  Mother,  have  you  noticed  Mary  lately?  " 

"  Yes,  father,  I've  been  noticin'  her  all  along 
ever  sence  she  came  home  from  that  chest- 
nuttin'." 

"  She  looks  kinder  peeked,  don't  she?  " 

"  She  isn't  right  well,  Lije.  I'm  gettin'  a  bit 
skeered  about  her.  She  picks  up  enough  to  go 
to  church  on  pleasant  Sundays,  but  I  couldn't 
coax  her  to  'tend  the  sociable  last  Wednesday. 


204  THE  FARMER  AND    THE  LORD. 

She  always  liked  to  before,  but  somehow  she 
don't  care  for  nothin'  now." 

While  saying  this  the  mother  .made  herself 
specially  busy  with  the  dough  she  was  knead 
ing,  and  never  once  lifted  her  head  to  look  at 

i 
Lije. 

"  Don't  seem  to  me  that  things  are  goin'  right, 
father.  She  don't  appear  to  have  anythin'  the 
matter  with  her,  an'  yet  there  must  be,  or  she 
would  take  some  interest  in  what's  goin'  on. 
When  a  girl  of  her  age  don't  take  any  notice  of 
things  it's  about  time  to  be  lookin'  round  to  find 
out  what  you  can  do." 

"  'Tisn't  love,  Samanthy  ?  There  hasn't  been 
any  trouble  between  her  an'  George?  " 

The  mother  shook  her  head.  "  No,  Lije ; 
everythin'  is  all  right  in  that  quarter.  I've  been 
watchin',  an'  George  an'  she  are  just  the  same 
as  ever.  It's  worse  than  that." 

Lije  had  scratched  a  match,  but  he  threw  it 
into  the  fireplace  and  forgot  to  light  his  pipe. 

"  Worse  than  that,  Samanthy  ?     Why,  what 


A    SLIGHT  ACCIDENT.  2O$ 

the  dickens  do  you  mean?  She  isn't  really  sick, 
is  she  ?  "  and  Lije  was  positively  alarmed. 

"  I  shouldn't  wonder  if  she  was,  father.  I've 
been  all  in  a  tremble  about  it  for  weeks/'  and 
as  Samanthy  wiped  her  hands  on  the  towel  that 
hung  on  the  door  she  slyly  wiped  her  eyes  also. 

"  Wall,  I  declare !  I  never  thought  that.  Fact 
is,  it  didn't  seem  to  be  possible  for  our  bright 
an'  high-spirited  Mary  to  get  real  sick.  I  s'posed 
the  cold  would  pass  off  in  a  week  or  two." 

"But  it  didn't,  Lije." 

"  No,  that's  true,  mother  ;  it  didn't.  But  don't 
you  think  she's  better  than  she  was  ?  Isn't  she 
mendin'  ?  " 

Samanthy  shook  her  head. 

Poor  Lije !  It  was  a  revelation  to  him,  and 
he  nearly  broke  down.  For  his  Mary  to  be  sick, 
seriously  sick,  was  more  than  he  could  bear. 
So  he  talked  no  more,  but  sat  by  the  fire  for  an 
hour,  his  unlighted  pipe  in  his  hand,  thinking. 
The  wind  blew  crisp  snowflakes  against  the  win 
dow,  and  soughed  mournfully  as  it  swept  through 


206  THE  FARMER  AND    THE   LORD. 

the  branches  of  the  elm.  He  must  have  a  talk 
with  the  daughter  and  find  out  whatever  there 
was  to  be  found  out. 

The  occasion  came  before  he  expected  it. 
Samanthy  went  over  to  the  nearest  neighbor 
for  a  little  friendly  call,  and  father  and  daugh 
ter  sat  side  by  side. 

"Mary,"  he  began,  "you  don't  seem  to  be 
as  pert  as  you  used  to  be.  Is  anythin'  on  your 
mind,  darter?  " 

"No,  father,"  and  her  voice  was  sweet  and 
cheerful,  "  nothing  at  all." 

"  You're  not  troubled  about  anythin'  that's 
happened?  " 

"Not  a  particle." 

"This  'ere  cold  is  pretty  stubborn,  isn't  it?  " 

This  time  she  merely  nodded,  as  though  not 
caring  to  continue  the  conversation. 

"  I  want  to  see  you  lively  again,  Mary,  an' 
full  of  laugh  an'  fun." 

"  I  should  like  to  be  my  old  self  once  more, 
father,  but — " 


A    SLIGHT  ACCIDENT.  2O/ 

He  looked  her  steadily  in  the  face,  for  her 
answer  surprised  him. 

"But  what,  darter?" 

"  We  don't  control  these  matters,  father.  It 
must  be  as  God  wills." 

He  rested  his  elbow  on  the  table  and  his  face 
in  his  hand. 

"  Isn't  that  queer  talk,  Mary  ?  "  and  a  kind  of 
shiver  ran  through  him. 

"  No,  father,  not  queer  if  one  has  faith,  as  I 
have.  God  decides  all  these  things  and  does 
what  is  best.  If  He  wants  me  to  get  well  it  will 
be  easy  to  do  so ;  but  if  He  doesn't  want  me  to 
get  well — 

"  There,  there,  darter,  I  can  stand  most  any- 
thin',  but  I  can't  stand  that.  Don't  you  go  to 
tell  your  old  father,  who  loves  you  more  than 
he  can  speak  of,  an'  who  looks  forrard  to  a 
happy  old  age  with  you  smoothin'  his  way  to 
the  grave — don't,  Mary,  don't  tell  me  anythin' 
of  that  kind.  What  do  you  think  I'm  made  of, 
darter?  Cast-iron?" 


208  THE  FARMER  AND    THE   LORD. 

"  I  don't  want  to  hurt  you,  father  dear,"  and 
Mary  took  his  hand  in  hers,  "  and  I  wouldn't  do 
it  for  worlds  if  I  could  help  it,  but  I've  felt  for 
some  time  that  I  ought  to  say  this  to  you.  It 
must  all  be  as  God  wills,  not  as  we  will ;  and  I 
must  be  ready  to  meet  that  will,  whatever  it 
may  be. 

"  I'm  sicker  than  you  think,  father,"  she  added, 
after  a  moment,  "  a  good  deal  sicker.  But  don't 
tell  mother — yet.  It  will  be  time  enough  for 
that  by  and  by.  You  promise  me,  father,  don't 
you?" 

There  were  tears,  great  scalding  tears  in  the 
old  man's  eyes ;  but  he  choked  down  a  sob,  and 
answered,  "  Yes,  yes,  I  promise,  darter,  but —  " 
and  he  trembled  in  agony. 

"  Father,"  continued  Mary,  "  I  have  known 
it  for  some  time,  and  now  you  know  it.  There 
are  just  three  of  us  who  know  it,  father — you 
and  I  and  God." 


XL 

THE  NEED   OF  FAITH 

I  SOMETIMES  wonder  whether  the  ministry  of 
a  pure  life,  with  its  ennobling  and  inspiring  in 
fluence,  or  the  ministry  of  a  triumphant  death, 
a  death  triumphant  because  the  dark  path  is 
lighted  by  an  unwavering  faith,  is  the  more 
valuable. 

To  live  grandly,  in  right  royal  fashion,  to  walk 
through  one's  experiences  with  a  stately  tread 
and  with  the  courage  of  a  soldier,  without  fear 
and  without  reproach,  is  to  impress  upon  a  thou 
sand  youth  the  nobility  of  honesty,  to  give  them 
a  high  purpose  and  aim.  To  die  without  a 
tremor  of  doubt  or  distrust,  to  draw  aside  the 
veil  and  walk  into  the  night  beyond,  or  what 
seems  to  be  the  night,  with  unfaltering  step,  as 
209 


210  THE   FARMER   AND    THE  LORD. 

though  heaven  were  close  at  hand  and  the  soul 
were  eager  to  reach  the  other  shore — that  is  cer 
tainly  one  of  the  sublimest  privileges  vouchsafed 
to  man.  It  brings  the  two  worlds  closer  and 
makes  the  other  one  dearer.  Not  all  may  wit 
ness  such  a  spectacle,  but  to  the  few  who  do  it 
is  as  startling  as  a  miracle,  something  never  to 
be  forgotten. 

The  spring  came  at  last  with  its  warm  breezes 
and  its  wild-flowers,  but  Mary,  patient,  sweet- 
souled  child,  could  not  enjoy  it.  She  had  stead 
ily  grown  weaker,  and  it  was  evident  that  the 
disease  was  unwilling  to  loosen  its  grasp.  When 
the  doctor  came  one  cheery  day  in  May,  he 
spoke  of  a  change  of  climate,  or  rather  a  change 
of  scene,  but  the  sufferer  smiled  and  shook  her 
head.  "This  is  home,"  she  said,  "and  I  can't 
leave  father  and  mother."  He  did  not  attempt 
to  conceal  from  her  her  danger,  but  she  showed 
no  surprise.  "After  all,"  she  remarked — and 
the  doctor  has  told  the  story  many  times  since — 
"  after  all,  what  does  it  matter  whether  I  am  here 


THE   NEED   OF  FAITH.  211 

or  there?"  and  she  lifted  her  eyes  to  heaven. 
"  I  am  in  God's  hands  wherever  I  am,  and  that 
ought  to  satisfy  me.  I  shall  be  sorry  to  leave 
those  who  have  loved  me,"  her  lips  trembled, 
"  but  perhaps  I  shall  be  even  nearer  to  them 
than  now." 

Lije  would  steal  into  the  room  on  tiptoe  for 
fear  of  awakening  her  if  she  happened  to  be 
sleeping.  He  would  sit  by  her  side,  hold  her 
thin,  almost  transparent  hand  in  his,  and  caress 
her  with  that  tenderness  which  is  the  peculiar 
ity  of  a  rough  man  when  his  heart  is  profoundly 
touched.  He  would  say  with  forced  cheerful 
ness,  "  The  weather  is  comin'  mild  now,  darter, 
an'  you'll  feel  better,"  but  she  seldom  answered 
him ;  she  only  looked  at  him,  but  that  look  told 
more  than  words.  He  couldn't  stand  it,  and 
more  than  once  pretended  that  he  had  forgot 
ten  something,  and  stole  out  of  the  room ;  and 
you  would  find  him  in  the  woodshed  whittling 
a  pine  splinter  with  all  his  might. 

George  called  every  day,  of  course.    Poor  fel- 


212  THE  FARMER  AND    THE  LORD. 

low,  he  couldn't  always  control  his  feelings ;  but 
I  must  hasten  to  say  that  as  a  general  thing  he 
was  brave.  There  was  a  certain  afternoon  which 
he  likes  to  talk  to  me  about  whenever  I  go  to 
Woodbine.  "  Why,"  he  said,  "  that  afternoon 
was  what  made  me  a  man.  I  was  only  a  boy 
before." 

Mary  was  lying  on  the  lounge  in  front  of  the 
window,  and  he  was  seated  on  a  footstool  close 
to  her. 

"  George,"  she  began,  "  you  love  me?  " 

He  lifted  her  hand  to  his  lips  and  reverently 
kissed  it. 

"  If  I  go  away,  George,  will  you  still  love 
me?" 

He  flushed  red,  but  couldn't  speak. 

"  Yes,  dear  boy,  I  know  what  you  would  say. 
You  needn't  say  it." 

Then  his  tongue  was  loosened.  "  Mary,  we 
were  really  married  when  we  said  we  loved 
each  other,  really  married  in  the  sight  of  Heaven. 
We  began  our  life  together  at  that  time.  You 


THE  NEED   OF  FAITH.  213 

know  me  well  enough  to  believe  that  I  can 
never —  " 

"Yes,"  she  broke  in,  "that  is  what  I  want 
you  to  say.  But  don't  say  it,  George,  unless 
you  are  sure  you  mean  it.  I  would  rather  have 
the  whole  truth,  no  matter  what  it  may  be. 
You  wouldn't  deceive  me,  dear?  " 

"  I  have  never  had  but  one  feeling  about  it, 
Mary.  Whatever  happens  makes  no  difference 
in  our  love  for  each  other.  You  are  my  wife, 
and  if  I  lose  you  I  lose  all." 

"  And  even  if  I  go  away  we  shall  still  belong 
to  each  other?  " 

"Just  the  same  as  now." 

I  met  George  long  years  afterward,  and  as 
we  leaned  up  against  a  fence  chatting  with  each 
other  I  said  impulsively,  "  George,  you  have 
never  married?  " 

His  face  became  grave  in  an  instant,  and  with 
a  voice  that  was  soft  and  low  he  answered : 

"  You  don't  remember,  perhaps.  I  am  mar 
ried.  God  married  Marv  and  me  the  winter  be- 


214  THE   FARMER   AXD    THE   LORD. 

fore  she  died.  She  is  my  wife  now,  and  there 
isn't  any  room  in  my  life  for  another  love.  She 
is  there  and  I  am  here,  but,  do  you  know,  I  some 
times  feel  that  she  comes  here  too.  Maybe  I  am 
wrong  in  this,  but  I  like  to  think  so.  At  any 
rate,  I  am  living  in  the  hope  of  seeing  her,  and 
though  I  have  plenty  of  work  to  do  I  sha'n't  be 
sorry  to  lay  it  down  and  go.  Yes,  I'm  married." 

Last  March  George  died,  and  the  loving  cou 
ple  have  ever  since — I  can't  entertain  a  doubt 
on  that  subject — been  in  each  other's  company. 
There  may  be  no  marriage  or  giving  in  marriage 
in  heaven,  but  there  is  something  much  better, 
for  in  heaven  loved  ones  come  together  and  will 
be  together  forevermore.  George  and  Mary 
were  separated  by  her  death ;  they  have  been 
reunited  by  his  death.  Death,  therefore,  is  the 
best  friend  George  ever  had.  I  am  sure  he 
thought  so  during  the  years  of  his  mourning; 
he  knows  so  now. 

Was  George  a  rare  man  ?  Well,  you  are  as 
good  a  judge  of  that  as  I.  When  love  is  a  mat- 


THE  NEED    OF  FAITH.  2  I  5 

ter  of  earthly  convenience,  a  means  to  supply 
domestic  comfort,  the  wife  giving  her  superin 
tendence  of  the  household,  and  the  husband  his 
quid  pro  quo  in  the  shape  of  sufficient  money  to 
supply  the  necessaries  of  life,  then  love  is  more 
or  less  of  a  bargain,  and  when  one  partner  dies 
the  survivor  looks  about  for  a  successor.  That 
is  a  low  form  of  marriage,  a  purely  physical  idea, 
with  more  or  less  of  selfishness  in  it. 

When,  however,  love  is  the  union  of  two  souls, 
including  the  conjugal  relation  but  not  at  all 
dependent  upon  it,  a  union  that  has  its  basis  in 
that  subtle  and  indescribable  something  which  is 
the  strongest  element  in  the  nature  of  God  Him 
self,  then  when  a  man  marries  he  is  married  for 
eternity  as  well  as  for  time.  Those  souls  travel  to 
gether  along  life's  highway  in  mutual  helpfulness 
and  sympathy,  and  when  the  parting  comes  the 
one  who  goes  waits  patiently  for  the  one  who  is 
coming,  and  the  one  who  is  left  waits  patiently 
for  the  time  to  go.  That  is  marriage  indeed, 
ennobling,  inspiring,  and  glorious.  I  do  not 


2l6  THE  FARMER  AND    THE   LORD. 

know  enough  of  the  world  to  declare  that  there 
are  many  such  marriages,  but  I  am  certain  that 
there  are  some.  George  and  Mary  were  mar 
ried  in  that  way. 

When  Lije  realized  the  fact  that  he  must  lose 
Mary  he  was  the  most  pitiable  object  I  ever  saw. 
At  times  he  would  summon  all  the  stubbornness 
of  his  nature  and  try  to  bear  it,  but  there  were 
other  times  when  his  self-control  slipped  away, 
and  then  he  was  perfectly  frantic.  That  the 
calamity  was  evidence  of  cruelty,  he  had  no 
doubt;  but  whom  could  he  blame?  Who  was 
responsible  for  it  ?  He  didn't  believe  in  God,  and 
so  of  course  could  not  see  any  purpose,  either 
beneficent  or  otherwise ;  and  as  for  the  laws  of 
nature,  they  were  both  impersonal  and  inexor 
able.  He  could  say  nothing,  could  do  nothing, 
was  absolutely  helpless,  like  a  man  on  an  ava 
lanche,  who  is  being  carried  to  destruction. 

In  the  field  one  day  he  saw  under  the  fence 
a  wild-flower  tossing  its  golden  petals  in  the 
wind  and  drinking  in  the  sunshine.  It  gave  the 


THE  NEED   OF  FAITH.  21  7 

passer-by  the  impression  of  happiness  and  con 
tentment.  It  nodded  to  him  as  he  approached 
it,  but  that  made  him  furious.  That  anything 
could  be  joyful  while  he  was  miserable  was  more 
than  he  could  bear.  That  this  chance,  or  law, 
which  constituted  his  whole  creed,  should  dis 
criminate  between  him  and  the  flower,  giving  its 
beauty  to  the  one  and  such  a  burden  of  misery 
to  the  other,  that  even  an  accident  should  so 
happen  that  he  must  weep  while  the  blossom 
laughed,  so  enraged  him  that  he  gave  the  flower 
a  kick  with  his  boot  and  broke  it  off  its  stem. 

"There!"  he  exclaimed;  "  if  there  ain't  no 
more  sense  in  this  universe  than  to  let  such 
things  as  you  grow  while  I  am  watchin'  over 
my  dyin'  child,  take  that!"  and  he  ground  the 
innocent  flower  into  the  sod  with  his  iron  heel. 

"  A  pretty  sort  of  a  world  we  are  livin'  in,  any 
how,"  he  continued.  "There  are  them  clouds 
rollin'  along-  as  though  there  wasn't  any  tears 
to  be  shed,  and  that  sky  an'  that  river  an'  them 
woods  all  enjoyin'  themselves  while  I've  got 


2l8  THE  FARMER  AND    THE   LORD. 

what  I  can't  stand.  It  isn't  any  sort  of  a  world 
at  all." 

Then  he  trudged  home,  and  there  on  her  couch 
lay  the  daughter,  so  pale,  so  wan,  so  beautiful, 
and  so  resigned.  She  greeted  him  with  a  smile, 
whispered,  "  You  are  so  good  to  me,  father," 
and  that  confused  him  more  than  ever.  What 
made  her  so  quiet  ?  Death  was  perhaps  only  a 
few  days  off,  and  yet  that  child  was  perfectly 
serene  and  undisturbed  in  her  mind.  He  was 
never  so  bewildered  before  ;  it  was  all  a  mystery. 

"  I'm  goin'  to  see  the  parson,  for  it's  beyond 
me.  There's  somethin'  here  that  I  don't  get 
hold  of.  I've  lived  sixty  year,  but  I'm  beat  this 
time.  Maybe  he  can  give  me  some  light.  At 
any  rate,  it  won't  do  no  harm." 

When  he  entered  the  little  library  Jessig  rose 
and  greeted  him  very  tenderly. 

"  Mary  ?  "  He  put  the  question  in  that  shape 
because  he  expected  news  of  her  death  at  any 
moment. 

"  Parson,"    said   Lije   very   sternly,   and   not 


THE   NEED    OF  FAITH.  219 

answering  the  question,  "  I've  come  to  talk  with 
you." 

"  I  am  at  your  service,  Mr.  Tomkins." 

"  You've  seen  Mary  a  good  many  times." 

"Yes;  she  has  lived  a  saintly  life,  and  is 
dying  a  saintly  death." 

That  seemed  to  excite  Lije.  He  rose,  his  face 
flushed,  his  blue  eyes  ablaze,  and,  making  wild 
gestures  of  deprecation,  cried : 

"Dyin'P  What  is  she  dyin'  for?  Do  you 
think  it  the  square  thing  for  me  to  be  robbed 
of  my  only  darter?  Don't  I  want  her  mor'n 
anybody  else  can  want  her?  Haven't  I  been 
lookin'  forrard  ever  since  she  was  in  her  cradle 
to  my  old  age,  an'  her  happily  married,  an'  all 
of  us  together?  I  tell  you,  parson,  I'm  bein' 
robbed.  'Taint  nothin'  short  of  robbery  to  take 
my  child!" 

Jessig  took  in  the  situation  at  a  glance,  and 
saw  that  only  the  most  drastic  measures  would 
serve  the  and  in  view. 

"  Well,  farmer,  who  has  robbed  you  ?  " 


220  THE  FARMER  AND    THE  LORD. 

"  I  don't  know,  parson ;  I  swear  to  you  I 
don't  know  nothin'  about  it.  I'm  all  afloat" 

"  What  you  call  the  laws  of  nature  don't  seem 
to  come  to  your  rescue,  do  they?" 

"Wall,  they  don't,  parson,  that's  a  fact,"  and 
he  sank  into  a  chair. 

11  There  ought  to  be  something  somewhere 
that  will  help  a  poor  fellow  to  bear  such  a  trial 
as  this ;  don't  you  think  so  ?  " 

"  Ought  to  be?  But  there  isn't;  leastwise,  I 
can't  see  it." 

"  Why,  farmer,  I  supposed  when  you  and  I 
talked  these  subjects  over,  and  you  told  me  that 
you  had  got  hold  of  the  everlasting  truth,  that 
what  you  then  called  the  truth  would  stand  you 
in  good  stead  at  such  a  time  as  this." 

Lije  said  nothing,  but  oh,  the  expression  of 
despair  in  his  face!  Jessig,  however,  pushed 
matters  still  further,  just  as  a  physician  gives 
the  racking  drug  as  a  last  resort. 

<f  Excuse  me,  neighbor,  but  don't  you  think 
there  is  something  wrong  in  a  theory  of  the  uni- 


THE  NEED   OF  FA  1 'TIL  221 

verse  which  leaves  you  helpless  when  you  most 
need  help?" 

Lije  was  still  silent. 

"  Suppose  there  was  a  rotten  plank  in  the 
bridge  down  yonder,  and  you  heard  it  crack 
when  you  drove  a  load  of  hay  over  it,  what 
would  you  do?  " 

"  If  I  wasn't  a  fool,  parson,  I'd  see  that  the 
bridge  was  mended." 

"  And  so  mended  that  it  would  bear  any 
team  that  would  ever  go  across  it?  " 

"  Yes,  parson,  I'd  make  a  good  job  while  I 
was  about  it." 

"  So  would  I,  farmer." 

"  But,  parson,  we're  not  talkin'  about  bridges. 
I'd  like  to  know — " 

"  Oh  yes,  we  are,  neighbor.  And  you've 
been  telling  me  some  very  important  truths 
about  bridge-building." 

Poor  Lije !  he  simply  moaned. 

"And  if  I  had  a  theory  of  life,"  continued 
Jessig,  "  that  had  a  weak  place  in  it,  a  place  so 


222  THE  FARMER  AND    THE  LORD. 

weak  that  when  death  came  into  the  house  I 
didn't  know  what  to  do  with  it,  I'd  be  pretty 
sure  that  the  theory  was  wrong,  and  would  give 
it  up  and  get  another  one." 

"  You'd  have  pretty  hard  huntin',  I  guess, 
parson." 

"  If  I  were  you,  neighbor,  I  shouldn't  have  to 
hunt  very  far." 

"You  wouldn't,  eh?  I'd  like  to  know  where 
you'd  find  it,  parson." 

"  I  know  some  one  who  would  be  glad  to  give 
it  to  you." 

"Who  is  that?" 

"  Your  daughter  Mary." 

There  was  silence  for  a  little  space. 

"  Farmer,  you  are  face  to  face  with  two  facts. 
First,  your  ideas  don't  work;  second,  Mary's 
do." 

There  was  no  answer.  Lije  was  in  that  state 
of  mind  where  speech  is  simply  impossible. 

Then  Jessig  rose  to  the  emergency.  Stand 
ing  in  front  of  Lije,  and  with  that  impressive- 


THE  NEED   OF  FAITH.  22$ 

ness  which  is  the  result  of  strong  conviction,  he 
said: 

"  She  believes  that  above  us  all  is  a  wise  and 
powerful  and  beneficent  Being  whom  she  calls 
her  Father.  As  to  His  nature  or  His  dwelling- 
place  she  knows  by  personal  knowledge  no  more 
than  you  do.  But  He  is  the  great  reality  in  her 
life.  She  has  a  perfect  faith  in  His  providence, 
is  absolutely  certain  that  what  He  does  is  for 
the  best  even  though  she  may  not  understand 
it,  and  submits  to  the  higher  will  with  calm  and 
quiescent  resignation. 

"  The  future  is  not  a  blank  to  her.  Heaven 
is  as  much  a  place  as  the  earth  is.  For  some 
reason  she  is  needed  there,  and  she  says,  '  Thy 
will,  not  mine,  be  done.'  She  is  slowly  passing 
away,  but  she  is  more  quiet  than  you  are  because 
she  believes  that  it  is  all  right.  When  in  that 
other  world  she  will  meet  many  who  have  gone 
before,  and  she  will  still  hold  to  the  tenderest 
relations  with  those  who  are  left.  Her  love  for 
you  will  not  be  extinguished,  but  be  purer  and 


224  77/£   FARMER  AND    THE  LORD. 

sweeter  than  ever.  That  you  will  be  visible  to 
her  I  have  no  doubt  whatever,  but  that  she  will 
be  visible  to  you  I  do  not  yet  believe.  Some 
time,  perhaps,  even  that  may  be  our  privilege. 
I  don't  think  it  an  impossibility,  but  I  do  think 
that  we  are  so  enveloped  in  the  cloud  of  this- 
worldliness  that  for  the  present  heaven  is  shut 
out  from  view.  By  and  by,  when  the  body  be 
comes  of  less  importance  and  is  less  dominating, 
by  and  by,  when  we  live  more  heavenly  lives 
and  the  soul  assumes  its  rightful  control,  we 
shall  see  the  dear  ones  face  to  face." 

Lije  stared  at  the  parson  in  open-eyed  and 
open-mouthed  wonder.  Both  hands  were  rest 
ing  on  his  knees,  but  in  his  upturned  face  was 
an  expression  which  no  one  had  ever  seen  there 
before.  He  seemed  to  enter  into  Jessig's  ideas 
with  enthusiasm.  There  were  great  tears  on 
his  cheeks,  and  he  trembled  like  a  leaf.  If  you 
had  seen  him  at  that  moment,  forgetful  of  him 
self,  you  would  have  said  that  that  rugged  face, 
sunburnt  and  furrowed,  was  really  handsome. 


THE  NEED   OF  FAITH.  22$ 

Lije  was  transfigured.  His  manner  was  one  of 
humility,  and  his  voice  was  as  gentle  as  that 
of  a  child  caressing  its  mother. 

"  You  really  believe  all  that,  parson  ?  Is  there 
anybody  in  the  world  who  can  reasonably  believe 
it?  You  wouldn't  deceive  me,  would  you?  I 
don't  want  to  hear  what  isn't  so.  No,  not  even 
now,  when  the  shadders  are  fallin'  on  my  house." 

Then  Jessig  took  a  chair  by  the  old  man's  side, 
and  they  talked  together  for  a  full  hour  longer. 
When  the  interview  was  over  Lije  rose  to  go, 
but  he  was  a  changed  man. 

"  Parson,  it's  a  new  line  of  thinkin'  for  me. 
I've  always  believed  in  nat'ral  law,  'cos  there  it 
was  right  before  my  eyes." 

"  Yes,  neighbor,  and  I  believe  in  natural  law 
too,  just  as  much  as  you  do.  But  you  have 
never  seen  that  if  there  is  a  law  there  must  be 
some  one  behind  the  law  who  made  it.  You 
stop  at  the  law,  but  I  take  one  step  further  and 
find  the  being  who  decreed  the  law,  and  that 
being  must  be  a  law  unto  himself;  in  other 


226  THE   FARMER  AND    THE  LORD. 

words,  he  must  be  God.  That  Being  I  worship, 
for  His  providence  is  over  my  whole  life,  and 
so  sure  of  His  goodness  am  I  that  where  I  can 
not  understand  there  I  trust,  believing  that  He 
knows  better  than  I  do,  and  that  I  shall  see  that 
He  was  right  when  I  get  on  the  other  side." 

It  was  evident  that  Lije  was  very  deeply 
affected.  On  his  way  home  he  picked  up  Ras- 
tus  by  the  wayside,  and  the  two  fell  into  con 
versation  on  religious  subjects. 

"  Don't  you  think  it  rather  weak  for  a  man  to 
change  his  views,  Rastus,  at  my  time  of  life?  " 

"  Depends,  Lije.  If  you  change  'em  for  some- 
thin'  worse,  why,  the  bargain  is  a  bad  one  an' 
you're  foolish  to  make  it;  but  if  you  get  some- 
thin'  better  I  don't  see  but  it's  right  an'  proper 
to  make  the  swap." 

"  Wall,  that's  just  where  I  am,  Rastus.  I've 
held  to  certain  idees,  as  you  know,  an'  I  thought 
they'd  last  me  until  my  folks  druv  me  to  the 
churchyard.  I've  been  pretty  fixed  in  'em, 
haven't  I  ?  " 


THE  NEED   OF  FAITH.  227 

"  I've  got  to  say  Yes  to  that,  Lije." 

"  I've  been  ponderin'  'em  of  late,  an'  I  find 
there's  a  screw  loose  somewhere.  My  old  the 
ories  wobble  a  good  deal,  an'  fust  thing  I  know 
I'll  have  a  breakdown.  I'd  like  to  avoid  that  if 
possible.  Now,  as  to  meracles,  you  know  what 
I've  said  ag'in  an'  ag'in." 

"  Yes,  Lije,  you  haven't  been  timid  in  givin' 
your  opinions." 

"  Wall,  I  give  it  up.  You  see,  there's  a  mer- 
acle  right  to  home  in  my  house,  an'  seein'  is 
believin'." 

"You  mean  Mary,  Lije?" 

"  Exactly.  That  darter  of  mine  is  goin'  some 
where  very  fast,  an'  'tisn't  strange  that  I  want 
to  know  where.  She's  ready  to  give  up  her  life. 
There's  everythin'  to  live  for.  She's  engaged 
to  your  boy  George,  an'  there's  the  two  farms 
to  be  divided  among  the  children,  an'  you'd 
think  she'd  hang  on  to  life,  wouldn't  you  ?  " 

"Yes,  Lije,  that  would  be  nat'ral." 

"  Wall,  she  doesn't,  an'  that's  the  meracle. 


228  THE  FARMER  AND    THE  LORD. 

She  isn't  afeard,  but  says  if  God  wants  her  she 
ought  to  go.  Death  is  just  nothin'  to  her,  only 
the  messenger  who  brings  the  message,  an'  she's 
sent  back  word  that  she's  all  ready.  I  tell  you 
that's  a  meracle,  or  about  as  nigh  to  one  as 
you'll  get  in  this  world." 

"That's  true,  Lije." 

"  An'  then  I've  been  talkin'  to  the  parson 
all  the  afternoon.  Of  course  with  these  things 
happenin'  in  my  house  I  couldn't  help  thinkin' 
a  good  deal,  but  I  couldn't  make  nothin'  out  of 
'em  on  my  theory,  so  I  went  down  to  the  par 
son,  an'  we've  had  about  the  toughest  talk  you 
ever  heard  of.  He  come  onto  me  like  a  land 
slide,  an'  I  must  say  he  didn't  mince  words  with 
me,  but  let  me  have  it  straight.  If  what  he  told 
me  about  is  religion  I  want  some  of  it,  an'  I'm 
goin'  to  have  it." 

Then  they  drove  on  in  silence  for  a  while. 
"Tell  you  what,  Rastus,  I'm  glad  Mary's  got 
this  kind  of  religion.  What  would  she  do  with 
out  it?  S'posin'  she  believed  just  as  I  did! 


THE  NEED   OF  FAITH.  229 

Wouldn't  it  be  awful?  An'  wouldn't  it  be 
awful  for  all  the  rest  of  us?  " 

"  Then  you  wouldn't  take  it  away  from  her, 
Lije,  an'  give  her  what  you've  had  instead?" 

"  Would  I  ?  Why,  it  makes  me  shiver  to 
think  of  it.  Not  for  worlds,  Rastus,  not  for 
worlds.  You  get  off  here?  Wall,  glad  to  see 
you.  Good-by." 


XII. 

AND   SO,   THE  END. 

I  SHALL  never  forget  that  day  in  the  latter 
part  of  May.  It  so  happened  that  I  was  in 
Woodbine  on  some  business  connected  with  the 
Phil  &  Kuhn  mills,  and  was  witness  to  some  of 
the  incidents  that  occurred. 

The  sun  begins  to  climb  pretty  high  up  in  the 
sky  at  that  season  of  the  year,  and  the  hills  back 
of  the  village  were  putting  on  their  summer  cos 
tume.  George  had  gathered  early  that  morning 
a  small  bunch  of  wild  violets  and  half  a  dozen 
stalks  of  the  beautiful  wood  anemone  and  taken 
them  to  the  dear  one.  She  lay  on  the  couch, 
where  she  could  look  out  on  the  fields  and 
hills. 

There  was  peace  in  the  home  of  Lije  Tomkins. 
A  tranquillity  pervaded  the  household  which 


AND   SO,   THE  END.  2$l 

only  comes  when  we  have  faced  a  peril  and  are 
trying  to  meet  it  bravely.  The  mother  had  gone 
to  her  chamber  for  a  rest  after  the  long  night's 
watching,  but  with  the  promise  that  she  should 
be  instantly  sent  for  if  any  change  took  place. 
Sam  went  about  the  farm  work  silently,  but 
managed  to  keep  within  calling  distance  of  the 
house. 

Lije  was  with  Mary,  and  as  he  gazed  on  that 
sweet  face,  but  oh,  so  pale  and  wan,  he  thought 
of  what  Jessig  had  said.  He  smoothed  her 
pillow  and  straightened  out  the  bedclothes  as 
though  it  was  a  princely  privilege  to  do  her  the 
slightest  service. 

How  gentle  he  was,  and  what  a  rough  sort  of 
fellow  he  was !  How  could  a  man  so  rough  by 
nature  be  so  gentle?  He  touched  her  finger 
tips  with  his,  and  when  she  still  slept  on  he 
smoothed  her  hand.  There,  in  a  tumbler,  was 
the  wood  anemone,  and  on  the  coverlet  were  the 
purple  violets,  and  Lije  thought  how  hard  was 
the  lot  of  George,  their  plans  all  broken,  their 


232  THE  FARMER  AND    THE  LORD. 

hopes  all  gone.  They  would  have  been  married 
in  a  few  months,  but  now — 

And  she?  The  doctor  said  the  day  before 
that  the  end  might  come  at  any  moment.  Jes- 
sig  had  also  called,  and  when  he  came  out  of 
the  room  he  almost  sobbed.  "  I  can  teach  her 
nothing,"  he  said  to  Lije  ;  "  she  knows  more  than 
I  do,  and  has  had  a  better  teacher  than  I  am. 
I  only  hope  that  I  may  have  the  same  experi 
ence  when  I  am  summoned."  There  are  some 
things  which  parishioners  can  teach  pastors. 

Lije  was  so  overcome  by  his  thoughts  that 
for  a  moment  he  went  to  the  window  to  get  a 
breath  of  fresh  air. 

There  was  a  whisper — "  Father!" 

He  turned,  and  Mary  beckoned  him  to  her  side. 

"  What  is  it,  darter?  Are  you  in  pain  any 
where?" 

She  shook  her  head  slowly  and  smiled.  "  No, 
I  have  no  pain,  and  " — she  laid  her  hand  on  the 
old  man's — "  no  anxiety." 


AND   SO,   THE  END.  233 

He  answered  nothing,  but  what  agony  there 
was  in  his  heart ! 

"  Father,  I'm  going  to  the  other  home  to-day. 
I  shall  be  there  before  the  sun  sets.  Think  of 
it,  father  dear,  I  shall  spend  to-night  in  heaven, 
but  '  there  shall  be  no  night  there.'  I  shall  see 
Uncle  Josh  and  little  Dick — he  must  be  a  great 
boy  now." 

She  grew  weary,  and  closed  her  eyes.  "  No 
night  there,"  she  murmured,  " '  and  God  shall 
wipe  away  all  tears  from  their  eyes.'  ' 

After  a  moment  of  silence  she  said,  "  I  am 
so  glad  to  see  you  alone  just  now  before  I  go, 
father,  for  I  want  to  tell  you  something.  You 
have  had  a  lonely  life  in  your  thoughts,  dear, 
and  I  have  been  sorry  for  you.  But  see  how 
happy  I  am !  Do  you  know,  father,  what  makes 
me  happy?  It  is  my  faith  in  God.  I  want  you 
to  know  Him  as  I  do.  If  once  you  find  Him 
you  will  never  let  Him  go." 

"  Darter,"  and  the  old  man  fairly  broke  down, 


234          rHE   FARMER  AND  *T1IE  LORD. 

"  if  you  are  really  goin'  I  want  to  tell  you  that 
I  have  already  found  Him." 

"  You — have — found — Him  ?  " 

And  then  he  told  her  how  he  had  been  think 
ing  during  the  last  few  weeks  that  he  might  be 
mistaken  in  his  theories  after  all,  and  how  he 
went  to  Jessig's  and  laid  down  his  last  doubt  be 
fore  he  left  the  house.  "  An',  darter,"  he  said 
chokingly,  "  I  believe  there  is  a  God,  an'  I'm 
goin'  to  live  as  close  to  Him  as  I  can.  I've 
reaped  only  thistles  so  far,  but  some  one  has 
taken  the  bars  down,  an'  now  I'm  goin'  to  fill 
the  barn  with  good  wheat  an'  corn." 

There  was  a  flush  on  her  cheeks  which  fright 
ened  him,  and  she  began  to  cough. 

She  clasped  her  hands  across  her  bosom  and 
whispered,  "  Dear  Lord  Jesus ! "  then  lay  so  still 
he  thought  she  had  passed  away. 

Twice  her  lips  moved  and  she  said  in  a  faint 
voice,  "  I  am  so  glad!  I  am  so  glad!" 

After  a  little  she  seemed  to  tremble  from  head 
to  foot.  A  shiver  went  through  her  whole  frame. 


AND   SO,   THE  END.  235 

"Father!" 

"Yes,  darter,"  and  his  eyes  were  riveted  on 
her  pale  face. 

"They  have  come  for  me!  I  see  them! 
Look!  Can't  you  see  them  too?" 

She  pointed  to  the  other  side  of  the  room. 

"Who  is  it,  darter?" 

"Why!  Oh,  how  beautiful!  Shall  I  look 
like  that?  " 

The  old  man  was  almost  panic-stricken. 
Every  muscle  stiffened  in  the  mighty  effort  to 
control  himself. 

"Tell  me,  darter,  what  you  see?" 

"  It's  Uncle  Josh,  right  there  over  the  bureau, 
and  Dick  is  standing  by  his  side.  Dear  Dick ! 
you  will  be  glad  to  have  me  with  you,  won't 
you?  And  behind  them  is,  is — He's  holding 
His  hands  out  for  me.  I  wonder  if  it  can  be — 
the  Lord.  Yes,  yes,  father,  it  must  be.  Oh, 
how  I  wish  you  could  see  them !  Look,  father, 
look!  and  try  to  see  them." 

Lije  turned  his  head  in  the  direction  indicated, 


236          THE  FARMER  AND    THE  LORD. 

and  for  a  single  moment  he  was  like  an  aspen 
leaf  in  a  tornado.  Then  he  cried  in  a  hoarse 
tone,  "  My  God!  My  God!"  and  buried  his 
face  in  his  hands. 

After  that  for  perhaps  half  an  hour  father 
and  child  were  silent,  her  little  hand  in  his,  with 
now  and  then  a  gentle  pressure. 

That  Lije  caught  a  glimpse  of  something  I 
am  sure,  partly  because  he  has  been  so  reticent 
about  it,  and  partly  because  he  went  back  a 
changed  man  to  his  farm  work  when  all  was 
over.  On  one  occasion  I  tried  to  lead  up  to 
the  subject,  but  he  saw  my  intention  afar  off, 
and  shook  his  head  kindly  but  firmly.  "  Some 
things,"  he  said,  "  can  be  spoken  of  to  any  one; 
other  things  may  be  talked  about  among  the 
few;  but  there  are  things  that  can't  be  told  to 
nobody,  an'  that  is  one  of  'em.  It's  all  between 
Mary  an'  me." 

I  think  it  was  close  upon  noon  when  the  sil 
ver  bowl  began  to  break. 

She  said  gently,  "  Father,  the  hour  is  come. 


AND  SO,   THE  END.  237 

I  am  going,"  and  she  raised  her  hand  a  few 
inches  that  he  might  kiss  it. 

At  that  instant  the  mother  came  into  the 
room,  and  found  Lije  kneeling  by  the  bedside, 
his  lips  on  Mary's  hand. 

"  The  door  opens !  I  can  see  it  swinging  on 
its  hinges.  They  are  all  waiting  for  me.  Good- 
by,  mother  dear;  good-by,  father.  A  little 
while,  and  we'll  all  be  together  again.  Yes — " 

There  was  a  faint  sound  in  the  throat,  and  in 
less  time  than  it  takes  me  to  write  the  fact  such 
a  change  came  over  that  little  body  that  you  felt 
sure  the  soul  had  left  it.  It  was  the  same  body 
and  yet  not  the  same.  The  difference  cannot 
be  put  into  words,  but  it  was  infinite  in  extent. 
The  moment  before  death,  although  she  was 
terribly  emaciated,  you  would  have  said  without 
hesitation,  "That  is  Mary  Tomkins."  A  sin 
gle  moment  after  death,  if  you  had  looked  at  her 
you  would  have  said,  " Where  has  she  gone?" 

But  I  must  draw  the  curtain.  Lije  and  Sa- 
manthy !  The  loss  was  terrible. 


238  THE  FARMER   AND    THE  LORD. 

I  saw  Jessig  last  year,  and  he  told  me  that 
Lije  was  one  of  his  closest  friends  and  stanch- 
est  supporters.  The  affliction  had  mellowed 
and  enriched  his  nature.  As  the  Bartlet  pear 
ripens  best  in  the  dark  rather  than  in  the  sun 
light,  so  some  souls  are  at  their  best  when  they 
have  been  through  sore  trials. 

I  took  supper  with  Lije  a  few  weeks  ago,  and 
when  we  were  sitting  on  the  veranda  in  the 
evening,  watching  the  multitudinous  stars,  he 
looked  up  and  said,  "  Heaven  isn't  so  far  off 
after  all,  is  it?" 

Then  he  added,  "  Sometimes  I  think  them 
folks  come  down  to  kinder  cheer  us  up  when 
we  feel  weak  or  grow  old." 

I  showed  some  surprise  at  such  sentiments 
from  that  quarter,  perhaps,  for  he  remarked/'  I've 
led  two  kinds  of  life,  but  I  like  this  last  one  best." 

"What  brought  about  the  change,  Lije?"  I 
asked. 

"  Wall,  it  wasn't  nobody  but  God  an'  Mary 
that  could  do  it,  but  they  did  it." 


George  H.  Hepworth's  Popular  Books. 


THE  FARMER  AND  THE  LORD. 

A  new  volume,  companion  to  "Hiram  Golf's  Religion." 
i  vol.,  i6mo,  242  pages,  75  cents. 

This  book  is  a  small  volume,  but  it  contains  the  essence  of  true  re 
ligion,  and  will  be  greatly  enjoyed  by  the  many  thousands  who  have 
already  read  "  Hiram." 


HIRAM  GOLF'S  RELIGION; 

OR, 

«« The  Shoemaker  by  the  Grace  of  God." 

By  GEORGE  H.  HEPWORTH. 
ipth  thousand.     i6mo,  134  pages,  cloth,  75  cents. 

"  Plain  talks  of  a  shoemaker  and  a  parson.  They  are  in  dialect ;  the 
style  is  both  quaint  and  strong.  A  book  that  gives  the  reader  something 
to  think  about.  .  .  .  The  sterling,  homely  common  sense  of  the  book 
is  commanding  wide  attention." — The  Evangelist. 

"  This  little  book  contains,  in  quaint  and  simple  sketches,  the  essence 
of  practical  Christianity.  Hiram  Golf  is  a  man  who  exemplifies  the  pre 
cept,  '  Whether  ye  eat  or  drink,  or  whatever  ye  do,  do  all  to  the  glory  of 
God.'  His  talks  with  the  young  minister  are  the  best  sort  of  lay  sermons, 
and  his  life  is  at  once  a  model  and  an  inspiration.  The  book  cannot  fail 
to  be  of  service  to  ministers  and  laymen  alike." — New  York  Observer. 

"The  point  is  that  serving  God  consists  in  doing  His  will,  especially 
so  as  to  benefit  one's  fellow  men  and  women,  wherever  one  finds  himself. 
It  is  a  powerful  and  touching  little  story  and  should  have  a  large  circula 
tion." — Congregationalist. 

"  This  book  is  a  small  volume,  but  contains  wisdom  in  large  chunks. 
Hiram  was  a  poor  shoemaker  who  mended  shoes,  and  was  just  as  much  an 
adept  in  mending  worn-out,  tired  souls.  His  talks  are  eminently  practical 
and  adapted  to  benefit  all  the  army  of  grumblers.  Hiram's  religion  has 
nothing  in  it  that  is  dyspeptic,  which  is  more  than  can  be  said  of  many 
good,  well-meaning  people.  The  little  book  has  wonderfully  good  prac 
tical  lessons,  adapted  to  every-day  life,  on  every  page." — The  Inter-Ocean. 

"About  a  year  ago  a  little  book  was  published  which  won  for  itself 
thousands  of  readers  in  a  very  few  months.  '  Hiram  Golf's  Religion ' 
was  one  of  the  sturdy  books  that  make  men  live  better,  because  it  makes 
them  think  better.  The  homely  sayings  of  the  old  shoemaker  made  every 
one  study  himself."—  Books  and  Authors. 


BROWN  5TUDIE5; 

Or,  Camp  Fires  and  Morals. 

By  GEORGE    H.   HEPWORTH. 

i6mo,  332  pages.     Illustrated,  gilt  top,  $1.25. 


"In  the  fora  of  *  story. 

-    -      :-- 

-.'-     :r 


::.-.   --..-.--   :      ::.-    A;.-    -- 
'    -    -       --.---.      -    -       -    -. 
i,  duties  and  easterns."— .V.  Y.  Tim,*. 


•     - 


THEY  MET  IN  HEAVEN 

By  GEORGE  H.  HEPWORTH. 
5th  thousand.     i6mo,  216  pages,  cloth,  75  cents, 

A  r.  __.._:.:     :    .  r  t  r  :  •  r  f     -    .    .        '       :  -      -.     ;-•--__-.:._;:-: 

'  '-  -r_.:_  :..-   ._7_:.     ::    H.r_~    ".-    .: 


.  :    ---=.'.  ••    -  :      r--.  -•    -.:---.::.•.-    ^       :  -    _      ..-•_----•      -  .     -     : 

:-.?:  .r-i::    -  .  ••  -    -  _    -.-    :  .:  :   :      :  ---      .      "   ..  -    ;  -    -  - 

_:    _:     -    :     -..--•       i.—  T-    i-  1   ;       -:--._.  •-     -  •    - 


ar.  ;    ?  :  _r.  :    _.    -.-:;-         -  ___     ^'-.  -    r. 
::.:.:_:        —  / 


THE  LIFE  BEYOND 

This  riortal  Hust  Put  on   Immortality. 

By  GEORGE  H.  HEPWORTH. 

2nd  thousand.     i6mo,  116  pages,  cloth,  75  cents. 


:     ;  .        ;;    _.;.   .     -  :    :  ..>-.  •   :     :        -.:_:-;        --.-.:  f 
~  .  "  ?     -  ••-   >:-••-   "  -    :    •  -  --       -..:-.--:-:..  -  ;      i       .  .  : 

."  -  ."-?   -     --  "  '•    -       -—::-:-..-:-.  -.  -•.•:-   «..    -    -       .  --  :- 

:  -;   ..    :.       .  -:-..:      -_    :•-::--   :  r._        -  ,          :          :--:->:_-:  -:    - 

-    :        --  '     -  ::       :;-;•>:.          ;;>-;.  -  -     . 

to  the  wearied  and  talma,  who  are  «**^wg  for  JJMMU.I  of  oooaf  c  r 
unseen  and  immeasurable  things  beyond  the  Tafl."  —  Ziims  HrrmUL 

**  The  thoughts  presented  are  expressed  dearty  and  forciblT,  and  in  » 

?'  •  .-  ~:::  -  :.  ---.-.;:_:--_-    :     :r.r_  _n  >;—;--.•.-,-:  -._rt*     —      ".;.-. 


HERALD  SERMONS. 

By  Rev.  GEORGE  H.  HEPWORTH, 

AUTHOR    OF   "  HIRAM    GOLp's   RELIGION,"    ETC. 

45  Short  Sermons  reprinted  from  the  New  York  Herald. 
i2mo,  252  pages.     Portrait  of  Author.    $1.00. 


"  For  months  past  a  sermon  has  appeared  as  the  leading  editorial  in 
the  Sunday  edition  of  the  Herald,  and  these  sermons  have  now  been- 
published  in  book  form.  In  reproducing  these  admirable  discourses  the 
publishers  have  unquestionably  acted  wisely.  Both  here  and  in  Europe  a 
lively  controversy  has  been  aroused  yi  consequence  of  the  bold  statements 
and  striking  originality  of  these  weekly  essays  on  religious  topics,  while 
at  the  same  time  great  curiosity  has  been  manifested  in  regard  to  the  per 
sonality  of  the  author. 

"  But  why  have  these  sermons  caused  such  a  sensation  ?  Do  they  differ 
so  much  from  ordinary  sermons?  ....  Lucidity,  brevity,  the  ex 
pression  of  vital  truths  in  clear  cut  Saxon  English,  absence  of  dogmatism, 
an  evident  abhorrence  of  intolerance  of  all  kinds,  a  catholic  sympathy 
•with  human  beings  of  all  ranks  and  creeds,  and  a  determination  to  insist 
on  all  occasions  that  ecclesiasticism,  with  its  formulas  and  rigid  adherence 
to  the  letter  of  the  law,  is  quite  a  different  thing  from  the  simple,  soul 
satisfying  religion  of  Christ — these,  we  think,  are  the  chief  characteristics 
of  George  H.  Hepworth,  as  made  known  to  us  through  this  book,  and  it 
is  precisely  because  he  has  given  full  play  to  his  individuality  that  these 
sermons  of  his  are  well  worth  reading  now,  and  will  be  well  worth  read 
ing  long  after  the  author  has  passed  away." — New  York  Herald. 

"  In  these  sermons  subjects  were  chosen  which  come  home  to  every 
individual  some  time  in  his  life  whether  he  is  in  one  church  or  another,  or 
in  no  church  ;  and  they  were  treated  in  such  a  broad  way  that  they  could 
be  beneficial  to  all.  The  sermons  have  one  excellent  merit  which  it  would 
be  well  if  some  of  those  given  in  pulpits  could  be  patterned  after — they 
are  brief  and  strictly  to  the  point.  Some  of  the  sermons  which  are  par 
ticularly  helpful  or  suggestive  are,  'A  Wasted  Life,'  '  Prayer,'  '  The 
Problem  of  Poverty,'  'Why  Do  We  Suffer?'  'Heroes  and  Heroines,' 
'Bearing  Good  Fruit,'  'Do  What  You  Think  Is  Right,'  'Little 
People  Who  Live  Little  Lives,'  and  '  You  Shall  Have  Strength.'  _  These 
are  a  few  of  those  in  the  volume,  every  one  of  which  will  contain  some 
word  for  some  one  in  trouble  or  doubt." — Boston  Transcript. 

"  They  are  addressed  to  men  and  women  entangled  in  the  perplexities 
of  life,  and  help  them  not  so  much  by  opening  to  them  a  larger  faith  as  by 
disclosing  to  them  the  hope  and  comfort  which  lies  in  the  faith  they  now 
hold." — Independent. 

"A  volume  of  unusual  interest.  These  sermons  have  already  reached 
large  congregations.  They  ought  to,  and  doubtless  will,  in  the  present 
form  reach  still  larger.  They  will  be  found  helpful,  all  the  more  so  be 
cause  of  their  freedom  from  dogma,  and  of  their  fresh,  vigorous  dealing 
with  practical  questions  and  problems." — Boston  Daily  Advertiser. 

"  The  sermons  are  very  short,  very  interesting,  very  practical  and 
very  helpful." — Literary  World. 

"  The  sermons  are  admirable  in  thought  and  treatment." 

—N.  Y.  Tribune. 


Miss  Crompton's  Charming  Stories. 


Messire,  and  Other  Stories. 

By  FRANCES  E.  CROMPTON.      161110,   117  pages,  illustrated, 
cloth,  75  cents. 

''  Whoever  has  read  either  Miss  Crompton's  '  Master  Bartlemy,'  or  '  The  Gentle 
Heritage,1  both  of  which  are  gems  amongst  the  literature  written  for  children, will 
be  eager  to  secure  anything  new  from  the  same  writer.  .  .  .  Three  charming 
stories,  sweet  and  wholesome  in  tone,  written  in  pure  English,  and  pleasing  to 
young  and  old."— Boston  Beacon. 

"To  our  minds,  it  is  better  conceived  and  better  written  than  Mrs.  Burnett's 
Fauntleroy.  It  is  as  perfect  a  little  classic  as  we  have  read  in  many  a  day." 

-Church  Standard. 

The  Gentle  Heritage. 

i6mo,    188   pages,    half   white,    illustrated,    75    cents. 

"The  author  writes  with  much  real  art,  and  child's  life  is  so  gracefully  and 
truthfully  transferred  to  the  pages  of  the  book  that  only  older  people  will  catch 
its  full  and  delicate  flavor.  .  .  .  One  does  not  often  come  upon  a  more  attrac 
tive  little  book."— The  Critic. 

"An  altogether  charming  child's  story.  Five  little  English  children,  living  sweet 
natural  children's  lives,  are  taught  by  their  experiences  the  groundlessness  of  a 
nurse  maid's  story  about  '  Bogies,'  and,  further,  a  great  lesson  in  gentleness,  self- 
control  and  unselfishness.  We  know  one  little  six-year  old  boy  who  calls  for  the 
reading  and  re-reading  of  this  book  so  persistently  that  he  nearly  knows  it  by 
heart."— The  Message. 

Master  Bartlemy; 

Or,   The    Thankful    Heart.       I2mo,    half   white,    illustrated, 
75  cents. 

"  One  of  the  sweetest  and  quaintest  little  stories  that  we  have  read  for  many  a 
day."— A7"-  Y.  Observer. 

"  Nothing  since  Mrs.  Ewing  laid  down  her  pen  has  appealed  to  us  in  quite  the 
same  way  that  this  most  graceful  and  touching  little  story  does." 

— Girls'  Friendly  Magazine. 

"  One  of  those  touching  and  helpful  little  stories  in  which  a  skilled  hand  shows 
how  a  little  child's  feelings  and  experiences  are  rich  in  important  suggestions  It 
is  charmingly  -written."— Congregationaltst. 

"  One  of  the  sweetest,  simplest,  and  most  effective  pieces  of  ethical  romancing 
that  has  come  recently  to  our  table." — Ar.  Y.  Independent. 

Friday's  Child. 

A  touching  story  of  a  little  boy  who  was   born  on  Friday. 
I2mo,  half  white,  illustrated,  75  cents. 

"One  of  the  most  touching  and  beautiful  stories  of  child  life  which  it  has  ever 
been  our  fortune  to  meet." — N.  Y.  Evangel. st. 

"The  story  is  told  with  a  skill,  a  tenderness,  a  mingling  of  the  glad  with  the 
sorrowful,  such  as  one  finds  seldom  equaled  and  never  surpassed  in  the  literature 
of  childhood."— Chicago  Standard. 


Sent  by  mail,  post-paid,  on  receipt  of  price. 

E.    P.  DUTTON  &  CO.,   PUBLISHERS, 

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